#I feel like this is such a safe and boring prediction

[bokettochild]

What are rabbit traits you headcanon Legend having?

Ooh!

As you've all likely seen recently, his hair turns white come winter! (Yes, I did a fic on it, and the art is amazing my gosh!) this also means his hair is incredibly thick in the colder seasons, and yes, he tends to shed that white hair later on when it gets warm again! it scared the Dickens out of him the first time it happened (he was nine and actually thought he might be dying, and since he was still mid-adventure, he didn't really have anyone to explain it to him, since even Fi didn't know what was going on)

He gnaws. Not consciously, but when he's nervous, agitated, or otherwise bored, he tends to chew on things, from his hair, to his sleeves, to some of his tools. It was worse when he was a kid and switching from rabbit to Hylian frequently, and could excuse it in his own head as just part of growing up. he's gotten better about it now, but there are definitely tooth marks on more than a couple of his old things, and his childhood clothes have the most tattered sleeves known to mankind. Nowadays, he ends up chewing on his silverware or gnawing on his rings more than anything, but he tries his best not to because he finds it humiliating, especially after he's been told a lot while growing up that it's babyish and disgusting

Nose twitches. So many nose twitches. That and his ears. New smells get his nose going like nuts, but it also wiggles when he's super happy/excited about something

His ears are the Most expressive out of the whole chain. They're also uncommonly long, which some believe is because the goddesses are so distant in his era (which is ironic because he's literally gone on adventures with the golden three). It's not confirmed that their size is because of his rabbit form, because Uncle says they've always been extra big (too big for his head really) but they do make hearing everything around him much easier, although they do tend to betray his feelings whenever he's trying hard not to show them.

Bucked teeth. it's not exceedingly bad, but his front incisors are a bit larger than usual, which actually gives him a slight lisp, although he's worked very hard to correct that.

His teeth actually grow, constantly. If he doesn't wear them down somehow, they'll get long enough that it actually makes it hard for him to open his jaw or eat, so his gnawing habit is actually necessary, much to his humiliation (they got overgrown all of once and he was so miserable and terrified that he's willing to suck up the shame now, but he's still wary of letting anyone know)

Binkies. Legend's not very expressive with the chain, but the reality is that a happy Legend is a very hoppy Legend, and he tends to dance in place a bit too when he's very happy/comfortable

Flops. If he trusts you, and feels completely safe, he is willing to just go boneless and relax. It really only happens with fable anymore, but Marin got to see it and Uncle used to enjoy it a lot before everything went wrong. (I saw this in a fic once and it has my whole heart)

Nesting/burrowing: It's not super obvious, but Legend tends to like finding and claiming small places and setting them up as cozy as he can. In his first adventure, he established a bunch of boltholes across Hyrule, and he keeps them tended to even now, although better than they used to be because they all are stocked with food/water/potions and at least something warm to wrap himself in. He also has a strange fondness for tunnels and dark underground spaces which weirds the rest of the heroes out. it might not be bunny related so much as due to the fact that he spent so much of his life/childhood in dungeons and tunnels and thus finds them more familiar and predictable than the outside world, but there's no saying for sure (it's both)

He grits his teeth when he's in pain

He eats mainly plant based foods, which is partially because hunting is hard for him and trauma makes fish a touch and go situation, but also because he genuinely just prefers plant/grain based foods.

He has the most massive sweet tooth, but generally just for fruits, although he will accept sugar based sweets on occasion (especially Ravio's cocoa)

Legend tends to freeze up when startled, although if there's a threat nearby his first instinct is to run. Usually, he just darts for cover if he can to assess the situation and then deal with it, but since the rest of the chain definitely Don't Do That, he's adapted to just hopping right into a fight and making a plan as he goes, or letting Wars make one for the lot of them.

He hates dogs/wolves/canines with a passion and is genuinely terrified of them, although he does his best to hide this/push past it when others are around because he's aware it's sort of ridiculous for a grown man (he's still a teen) to be scared of a dog.

When helpless, he is likely to adopt the "if it can't see me, it can't hurt me" approach, and that usually means holding perfectly still or tucking himself into the nearest crevice

He bites. Hard.

Rabbits are a prey animal, which means that, as another user here has observed, they are a fight or flight creature. That, in turn, means that when they enter a fight, they don't stop fighting until the thing they're fighting is dead, because while predators can just fall back and go away, fro prey, if they stop, then their attacker can/will just chase them down and kill them. This means that Legend is terribly bad about backing out of a fight once it's started and will keep going until there is o doubt that his foe is thoroughly dead.

Naturally born snuggler, although his trust issues mean he rarely indulges in it.

He cannot handle spice. Like, at all. It makes him sick, although rarely to the point of vomiting. He tends to avoid it though.

While raised to be an early rise, if given the choice, he'd prefer to stay up late and sleep until he's ready. Duty and social norms demand that he gets up with the sun, but his brain is Not Wired For That, so he's not a happy morning person.

Rabbits can have genuine heart attacks when scared too badly, and Legend has some weird heart issues anyway, so if he gets too scared, he is liable to faint, albeit briefly. Usually, he can calm himself down or force himself to focus enough to force his breathing/system to behave, but sometimes his heart just decides it's had enough for the moment and makes him drop like a sack of rocks. It's very rare though, especially given how often he exposes himself to things that scare the shit out of him

He has very sensitive ears, and is tender headed in general

He's very fast, but only in spurts. He can't last long for long distances on his own power. The pegasus boots help with this a bit, but he still needs breaks

By nature, he's pretty playful. By need, he rarely plays, but if someone starts playing WITH him, well, it'd be rude not to respond, right? (He loves it)

Very sensitive nose. Not as much as Twilight's, but he's got a better sniffer than most of the rest, even Time (LOL)

Big feet. He's also flat-footed, which means shoes are hell for him, although he has to wear them given the variety of terrain he crosses and how frequently he gets in battles and runs across poisonous substances. Still, he'd much rather he barefoot. (Fable commissioned him a special set of boots when she found out, so it's not as bad as it used to be, but he still doesn't like them)

High sensory. He might not have whiskers, but he makes up for it by touching just about everything around him to get an understanding of his surroundings (outside of a fight that is). Add in the smell and hearing things, and, well-

He's actually got pretty bad eyesight, being mostly farsighted and having a sensitivity to strong light. In contrast though, he does pretty well when left in the dark, and actually finds it soothing (much the to the horror of anyone who's fought a shadow).

He's very good at getting out of places he's supposed to be locked up in.

He does not handle fall damage well. He's learned to tuck and roll in the circus from Mel and Rom, but it still messes him up more than the rest.

Foot stompies. So many foot stompies. he tries hard not to do it, because it makes Twilight laugh at him, but he genuinely can't help it sometimes

That's all I got for now! Hope you enjoyed!

[ladyofthenoodle]

Do you have any predictions for season 6? I don’t mean stuff we as a fandom want to have necessarily. I mean stuff you think logically could happen. Thank you!

miraculous ladybug has been increasingly difficult to predict each season, as they've developed a habit of not following through with half the things they set up and introducing several new things that weren't built up in prior seasons. to be clear, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. the introduction of the alliance rings in season 5 was something pretty much no one predicted (and in fact prevented the "getting the miraculous back one by one" story most people anticipated), and i thought that was a good choice. there are other choices i didn't predict or like, but i don't want to go into those here.

however, there are some things i feel relatively confident predicting that may or may not be on my wishlist:

whatever it was that lila saw at the end, she's going to find out she's bitten off more than she can chew. this won't stop her from being an effective supervillain, but it'll come at a cost. miraculous has been pretty consistent with the idea that misusing a miraculous has consequences.

based on the official season 6 summary, i think my post finale prediction on lila befriending marinette with another identity will be true to some extent. she's almost certainly infiltrating the new school

the summary also mentions secrets between adrinette being a thing, but i'm gonna predict that for the first 10 or so episodes this just means identity shenanigans. once we've finally given up hope the show will ever address anything marinette has kept secret from the season 5 finale, it'll suddenly become relevant again

felix will officially be part of the main cast. like the previous bullet point, the show won't address any of his previous misdeeds until fandom has completely given up on it, and then suddenly it'll be relevant again

slightly bolder prediction: i don't think the show actually wants to juggle a superhero team of this size, so they'll find SOME reason to cut down the number of active heroes. i'm not sure what yet.

[chatdomestique]

Sometimes neurotypicals will try to make small talk with me but I won't realize that's what they're doing because the first few questions will just sound like they're searching for a good topic to start a proper conversation and also I love talking about myself, but then I start to feel like I'm being interviewed, at which point I'll be like "Oh shit, I'm supposed to be asking questions back!" and I just have to go through the list of questions they already asked me and pick one to try to get them talking about themselves instead so I don't appear too self-centered

[unfo11owmeplz]

Kero Tumblr and Pixiv are either getting boring or straight up unusable. And it feels like twitter is slowly going down too. 💀 Komatta na...

[yestrday]

: ̗̀➛ NO BEDTIME TONIGHT ! yan! octavinelle / gn! reader

ramshackle's finally turned into a heap of rubble. you saw that one coming a long time ago. what you didn't see is the harem of unsavory magicians trying to keep you confined within their dorms. (<- prev )

TW ! choking, bruising, biting, violence, strangling (YES ITS THE EELS) suggestive themes, implied drugging, subtle n*nconsensual somnophilia

You’ve nearly had it. Savanaclaw isn’t a place where you can feel safe— Grim, your only solace of familiarity, won’t sleep with you because of the beastmen and said beastmen keep getting pummeled because they thought it was a good idea to comment on how fuckable you are in front of Jack. Ruggie and Leona don’t even seem to care about keeping their junior in check, maybe even approving of it. 

How can anyone blame you for being normal and wanting not to be the cause of a dozen students’ broken noses? You need to escape, fast. 

You’ve long told Headmaster Crowley about your broken-down Ramshackle, but in headmaster fashion, he seems to be taking his sweet time fixing it. No doubt he’s forgotten about it as he’s frolicking about somewhere. Maybe you can ask the staff to let you sleep in a janitor's closet or the infirmary. Sevens, is this gonna be your life from now on?

“Hmm~? Shrimpie, I heard you’re gettin’ desperate these days~” The last person you want to see regarding your living accommodations is towering over you, mismatched eyes glinting with sick glee as he leers at you. Floyd’s sharp teeth straighten into a mischievous smile, lanky hands grabbing your shoulders. “Why don’t you come to Octavinelle? We ain’t nothin’ but hospitable~”

In Heartslabyul, you were lulled into a sense of comfort because they were your close friends. In Savanaclaw, you were happy at first because Jack is one of the most decent people you know. As soon as you step foot on Octavinelle territory, you know that you were fucked right from the get-go. Scheming businessmen, sadistic twins… You couldn’t get out of this no matter how hard you tried.

FLOYD LEECH seems amused at your darting eyes and frightened look… but also equally displeased at your seemingly resigned state. Clearly, he wanted something more alive to play with. You juggled over whether or not to amuse him by fighting back or to potentially earn a tantrum by staying still and waiting for the right opportunity. Knowing that both types of Floyd were equally as bad, you decided to opt for the one that required less energy.

“C’mon, shrimpy, do something~” He’s poking your cheek as you lay blankly on his bed. He doesn’t share a room with anyone, which checks out because you doubt anyone would want to share a room with this crazy. “You’re boring me here!”

You hold up two fingers in his face. “If I do anything, you’ll either: one, amuse yourself by forcing me to do more through violent means and force.” You put down one finger. “Or two, you’ll squeeze the shit out of me till I lay here dead.” You put down your hand entirely. “Well, tough luck. I don’t like any outcome, so I’m gonna stay still until you get fed and either leave me alone or maul me.”

The lanky eel, kneeling at the side of his bed, pouts as he lays his cheek beside your face. “That’s no fun~ Am I that predictable?”

Predictable in the way that Floyd will always do something disastrous, no matter what happens. Unpredictable in the way that you never know what he’ll end up doing. You flip your head to the side, sulky mismatched eyes and a handsome face just inches away from you… And you sigh. God, these evil suckers just had to be handsome. You pinch his cheek and sit up. “Don’t worry,” you say, drily. “I never know what’s going on in that head of yours. Never did, never will.”

Floyd’s face brightens up, moods as ever-changing as the ocean waters. “Aww, ya flatter me, shrimpy!” He grins as he tackles you to his bed. Ack. You feel like he dug something into your ribs. “Me, I liiike always knowing what’s on your mind. Your face is so cute and expressive! Like when your eyes keep shaking whenever you’re scared, or that stupid-looking smile when you try to lie, or the way your mouth gapes whenever you’re tired! I could stare at you for hours!”

What the… Oh, whatever. “No commentary on the way I smile when happy or something?” You don’t even know why you care anymore.

Floyd stares at you as if you just asked something foreign. “Well, I think your smile’s stupid. Stupid and cute. But—” His mouth slits into a smile of razor-sharp teeth. “I think you’re squishiest when you’re shakin’ in your boots, yeah?”

Staring into a mouth full of teeth that could chomp your flesh off, you gulp down a whimper. Floyd’s grin stretches even more. “Yeah, yeah, like that! I like the way ya try to be a~ll strong and brave when everyone knows how scared ya are. Like how your throat bobs cuz ya got a scream stuck there or something.” His cold, cold hands— gentle at first, then an inescapable pressure as his thumb digs into your throat— clamp themselves around you. His eyes widen as he watches you scramble to pull his hands off you and laughs maniacally. “Yes, like that! Ah~ I don’t get it! How’s someone so pathetic this adorable to look at!”

His expression drops into downright threatening. “It’s fucking annoying.”

Shit, his choke has you seeing stars already. “F–Floyd,” you gasp out, scratching at his arms futilely. “Stop this— I— Kkgh— It isn’t funn—!”

“I’ll tell ya what isn’t funny!” His voice is screeching, eyes looking down at you in… hatred? Glee? Annoyance? Obsession? Fuck, you just want his hands off you. “Who the hell do you think you are, running around in my head like that? Little magicless shrimpy who’s got nothing but a cute face on ‘em! Smilin’ at me like that… makin’ friends with Azul and Jade like it’s sooo easy! You’re makin’ em boring!” He bares his teeth at you. “You’re controlling me!”

How the fuck was that your problem?! You feel your strength failing you. You can’t breathe. Darkness was clouding your vision. You were really gonna fucking die here. You want to go home. You want to go home. You want to go—

He lets go, and you take in a frantic breath as he sits back with an amused expression. “Haha, you’re cute when you’re all gasping like that.”

You glare at him, but you feel that it comes off weakly. Your mind is dazed after being deprived of oxygen, and you feel faint. He laughs even more, a cross between amusement and being… genuine.

“Seven,” he whispers, staring at you like a treasure found on the sea floor. “I really do like starin’ at ya.”

If JADE LEECH had anything to say about the purpling bruises on your neck, he didn’t say it. Rather, he opted to smile at you with his usual slimy grin and poured you a cup of morning coffee, playing the part of the attentive gentleman. His brute of a brother walked right behind you, yawning and sporting a grumpy frown and disheveled hair. 

“Did you have a good night’s rest?” Jade asks, sitting across from you on one of Octavinelle’s dining tables. He’s already dressed in his school uniform despite it being too early in the morning. Ugh. You return his smile, passive-aggressive and barely holding back ire. You’re wearing one of Floyd’s tanks, so you know he can see it. He chuckles, sharp teeth glinting as he lifts his cup of coffee. “Well, apologies for my brother. You know how he is sometimes.”

This isn’t something to just apologize for, you think, but rather a lawsuit and a restraining order. But you doubt any lawyer would be willing to represent you, the magicless alien with not even a single official document on them. You decide to grace his remark with a scoff into your coffee cup. 

“Now, now, let’s not be like this,” Jade pouts. He feigns sadness as he regards your surly demeanor. “We are friends, aren’t we? You know it hurts me to see you be so cold to me.” You level him with an unimpressed stare, and he raises both hands as if to show innocence. “It’s true! Please look back on the times we had together. Saving Azul… breaking you out of Scarabia… defeating Jamil… Why, I thought we were best friends!”

You have to admit, it’s a bit humorous to see Jade act so pitifully, even though you weren’t falling for it. You crack an amused smile, leaning back on your chair as you take another sip. “Mm, yes. Making a deal to release 300 students from slavery… kicking me out of Ramshackle… nearly drowning me on multiple occasions…”

Jade gives up the act, returning to his intimidating smile when he knows you’re not falling for the act. “Why, they say you’re not truly friends if you don’t tease each other.” You snort again.

The two of you fall into a… not-so-comfortable silence. Not-so-comfortable in the way that he’s been staring intensely at the welt around your neck. After a few uneasy minutes, he stands up and walks away. He returns with a salve pot in his hands. “May I?” He asks, fingers already flitting across your neck. His touch is as ice-cold as his brother’s— probably thanks to their cold-blooded biology— and makes you shudder all the same. You offer a meek nod and bare your neck to him.

Jade’s smile stretches as you place yourself in the most vulnerable position possible.

He rubs the salve on your bruises, gentle and tender, all while thinking how you’re still the naive fool you were from the start of the year. By now, you should know not to show too much weakness to them, to him. Yet here you are, offering up your neck like he wasn’t capable of digging into that warm flesh and watching the light leave your eyes without remorse. Two fingers press against the pulse on your neck— one, two, one, two. A sign that you were alive and warm. You crane your neck to frown at him. He chuckles and backs down from the knowing glint in your glare.

“If Floyd bothers you that much, you can always sleep over mine tonight,” he coos. “I imagine it’d be a more comfortable rest. Perhaps more comfortable than that… Heartslabyul vice-leader.” “Trey?” Jade hears the self-mocking in your voice. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Why, didn’t you know? Your sleepovers are the hottest scandals of Night Raven College right now!” He pleasures in the way your ears burn. If he’d nibble on that soft shell, would it be weak enough to break and bleed? “That man… couldn’t stop smiling when I chanced upon him in the greenhouse and pressed him for details. Irritating smile, that one, but I confess it had made me a tad curious as to what exactly transpired.”

He bends his face to grin down at you. “Would you care to reenact the details of that night?”

“W– We did nothing!” You yelp, pushing away that mischievous face. “Just slept in the same bed, that’s all!”

“Hmm, are you sure that’s everything?” Jade hums, circling you to face him. He tidies your hair, untangling the morning knots here and there while observing your face. “He did slip something about your soft, warm tongue… pressed against his fingers… opening up prettily for him…”

Jade’s glee heightens when your blush deepens even further. There was no need for him to use his unique magic to deduce that this was the truth. “He told you that?!”

“Nope!” He laughs a bit when he hears your frustrated groan, tricked and betrayed. “I was merely guessing what that pervert might have done to you. No need to fear, dear. Should you sleep with me tonight, you would not suffer like that?”

You stare at him incredulously. “Really?” Sevens, you really know him, don’t you?

“Of course not.” He twirls a strand of your hair around a finger, kissing it gently and peering down at you. You swear that his one golden eye shines under the fluorescent lighting. “Unlike him, my perversions lie somewhere… bloodier.”

Like hell you were gonna sleep with Jade after that! … Is what you told yourself. Unfortunately, being the target of a Leech sibling’s affection means there is no way to squeeze yourself out of that situation. AZUL ASHENGROTTO seems to know that much, because even with the huge scowl on his face as he observes your bruised neck and the bite marks on your collar, he can’t seem to blame you. He’s cooking up a healing potion that could at least lessen the severity of these ugly marks. You had joked about never being able to pay back that potion, and he sighed and said it would be on the house… after all, it was his members’ fault.

“What a surprise,” you laugh as he offers the potion to you. Azul looks absolutely distraught by your mangled neck. “Didn’t think I’d get something for free from you.”

The octo merman huffs at you. “I’ve given you lots of things over the months, haven’t I?!”

It’s been a while since the two of you were alone together, but you remember how fun it is to tease him. Outside, Azul could be pompous and condescending— he has an image to retain. But now alone in his bedroom, it seems that Azul has decided to forgo the facade and be his normal, pouty self. “Honestly,” he sighs, willing the used cauldron and other supplies to fly out of the room. “I do a lot of things for you that I wouldn’t do for anyone else, don’t I? And for free too!” You squint at him. “Most of the time.” You squint harder, and he throws his hands in the air. “Sometimes! Sometimes is already too much— I’m enterprising here!”

You smirk and chug the potion down. Slightly sweet and bubbly, not unlike a soda. “Thanks so much, dorm leader,” you coo. “To be on the receiving end of the Octavinelle head’s generosity, you truly embody the illustrious Sea Witch’s benevolence.” He takes the bottle away from you, miffed, but you smile at the red coloring on his ear tips. What a cutie.

He sighs. “Jade and Floyd… They’ve always been violent, but something about you makes it worse. Floyd’s strangled a few people here and there, yes… But Jade’s always managed to hold himself back.” He brushes a careful finger over your wounds and sighs when you wince. “Sevens, they outright mangled you. The potion will take effect in a few minutes, don’t worry.”

“I get that it’s in their biology to be violent, but really! Making trouble for me…” He continues to rant. A scheming smile spreads across his face. “Why, if you insist on pressing charges, I’d be happy to write up a contract for you. Nothing too charging, of course! Though the same can’t be said for them once we present our — ahem, your clauses.”

“No one’s pressing anything, Azul,” you laugh, resting your cheek on your hand while Azul paces his room. “It’s, well, it’s not nothing… but I’d rather not get myself into any more trouble. If the rumors are true, then I’d rather not have any conflict with the Leech family.”

“Hmph, too kind!” He turns around and wags a finger in your face. “This is why it’s so easy to take advantage of you. Even things like this, you’re willing to let go! Have you not learned a single thing during your time here in NRC? You’re lucky that you have me to cover up for you!”

“Yes, yes,” you hum. “Ve~ry lucky.”

Azul smiles— less pompous and more satisfied— and straightens his back. Heh. “Exactly! After all, I am benevolent. Worry not, your rest with me will be the most peaceful you’ve had in days!”

He can hardly believe his luck. Wait, no, this isn’t luck. Everything good that has happened to Azul’s life is because he worked hard for it, and Sevens, did he work for this. You, vulnerable in your state of sleep, sprawled across his bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. From the state of your eyebags, he guessed that you haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep with either Floyd or Jade, but with him… Heh, the twins might not view it that way, but this was a win for Azul.

Gently as not to stir you, Azul reaches out and brushes his hand against your cheek. It’s warm, like rays of sun on his cold skin. As soon as he saw you in that fateful entrance ceremony, he thought you really weren’t NRC material. When you sidled up to him in the underwater museum and had a conversation about his past, like he didn’t try to kill you and your friends, he knew you weren’t made for this school. Not when you were too good for him. Not when you stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him, gazing at that horrid field trip picture and granting an unjudging ear to his monologue.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Aaah… No one deserves you. Not me, not anyone. But aaah…” He cozies up in the crook of your neck, relishing in that soft warmth. “The things I would do to keep you down in the waters with me. I’d do anything for you, buy anything for you… just to be mine and mine alone.”

“Mine, be mine…” His begging comes off in short whines, pleading to your unconscious body. “I couldn’t bear it… to see you frolicking around with some idiot that isn’t me…”

Something slithers around your leg, sticking to it like a parasite on an easy prey. It suckles softly, while its owner cradles you with his many legs as he relishes in his most prized treasure’s body. You shift a bit, eyes furrowing as if your unconscious mind was telling you that something was off. Sleep wasn’t supposed to carry the weight of another person, and rest should not be disturbed by tentacles gently suckling on your skin.

Azul wonders what would happen if you’d wake— not that you would, he made sure of that. He wonders if your eyes would widen, heart stuck in your throat, face frozen in that fearful expression that the twins love to praise. His heart drops. No, he’d rather see you gently smile at him. He’d rather you return his myriad of desperate kisses and stroke his hair, call him pretty despite all the insecurities.

He brushes his lips against yours— not quite a kiss, but enough to make him crave more. You truly make him pathetic.

Floyd Leech changed Azul Ashengrotto’s nickname to ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU

ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): Heh. Now what could have possibly caused this tantrum now?

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Now, now, Azul. As your closest friends, it’s not nice to play dumb around us. 

ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): Ugh. It’s weird when you say that. And I don’t like your tone.

You (Floyd Leech): WHAT DID U DO TO MY BRUISES ON SHRIMPY. WHERE ARE THEY.

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): It has also occurred to me that my bite marks are gone. What a shame… The mementos of our beautiful night together gone because of a scheming octopus.

You (Floyd Leech): IM GONNA FGUCKING STUFF YOU IN UR OCTO POT U STUPID OCTO AND ILL STUFF U FULL OF UR STUPID POTIONS TILL U TURN BACK ROUND AND NICE TO EAT THEN TURN U INTO TAKOYAKI AND FEED U TO SHRIMPY

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Floyd, please. Let us not feed this stupid octopus to our pitiful prefect.

ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): … I don’t appreciate the comments on my body.

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Mm. Pity. Floyd and I are looking over octopus recipes. Personally, I’d prefer to place you on a sushi platter.

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Perhaps we will start off by cutting those insipid tentacles of yours. For erasing our marks and placing your own.

You (Floyd Leech): it was kinda hot tho

You (Floyd Leech): back of the thigh. erotic doncha think

ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): Why, then you’ll be pleased to see the marks on their back, Floyd.

fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Oh my. I don’t think mother and father would be pleased to know that Floyd has broken yet another phone.

[prythianpages]

Down To You | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader | The more Eris lets you in, the more he finds himself being pushed and pulled into feelings he's scared to accept.

a/n: We're going back in time for this one ahhh. I know that Eris's POV the night of the breakup was the one that had won the poll. I had that one 40% done but then I listened to Paramore's I Caught Myself & thought why not add a bit more context first? And also add some fluff (if you squint lol) This is roughly around 2K words.

warnings: angst, some fluff, brief implied smut/suggestive content, reader is pregnant/ hidden pregnancy trope

Eris had always been careful about the people he let in.

He was careful with his composure, his secrets, his lovers. Oh, especially, his lovers. His last one had been a pretty female, another noblewoman forced into a loveless marriage with a male thrice her age. She was graceful enough in public and very discreet with personal matters, which is why Eris chose her. He liked that about her.

Her personality though…It absolutely grated him. She was boring and irritating. Sometimes, he even wondered if he hated her. But that had been good. It was safe. There was no danger of losing himself in someone like her. She was predictable and most importantly, easy to walk away from.

Now you? You were none of those things.

You, with your bright eyes—still full of life and hope. That smile that made his chest ache. You were hypnotic, whether you meant to be or not. Some kind of magic you claimed you didn’t possess, though Eris swore he felt the pull of it in his very bones.

He should’ve known the moment he saw you on the dance floor. You moved like the music was yours alone to command. Everyone else had faded into the background. You enchanted the room, unaware or uncaring of how many stares you drew, including his.

Still, he told himself it was harmless. Just one dance.

Then you took his hand, and somehow—step for step, spin for spin—you matched his rhythm like no one else ever had. By the end of it, he was out of breath. From both the dance and you and he needed more.

 Just one taste.

You ended up in his bed that night and he devoured you with a hunger he hadn't felt in decades. Something in him—something old and locked away—began to unravel that night. He shouldn’t have let it. Should’ve ignored the ache, should’ve pushed you away after he had his way with you. Instead, he let you fall asleep, tangled in his sheets and his scent, the sweet sounds he’d coaxed from you still lingering in his head. 

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. You weren’t supposed to mean anything. And when you woke up, just an hour later, you surprised him further. Just as you slipped your dress back and so casually admitted it had been your first time.

He’d sat up so fast he nearly knocked you with his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me??”

You blinked up at him. “Would you have still invited me to your bed if you knew?”

His gaze, unintentionally, dropped to your mouth. Gods, that mouth. The way it curved, the way it had driven him mad no more than an hour ago. When his eyes met yours again, he found mischief sparkling there.

“I would’ve been much more gentle,” he murmured.

A beat of silence.

You let out a small exhale. Still flushed, you grinned and said, “Well, you can show me next time.”

Next time.

That was the beginning–the beginning of his downfall.

He hadn't realized how dangerous those two words were until next time turned into come over, and come over became stay the night.

Until your presence bled into every corner of his life—his bedroom, then yours. Until secret walks through the Autumn woods and stolen moments in shadowed corners of the Forest house became frequent.

Eris should’ve known he was doomed when he first brought you to the cabin, his secret haven.

You filled it with the sharp tang of burnt herbs your first day. You had stood by the stove with your brows furrowed, waving at the smoke like it had personally offended you. The kettle hissed, a trail of smoke coming from its spout. The herbs you’d added to it were definitely charred and no good.

Eris leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, an unmistakable glint of amusement in his amber eyes. “For someone who claims to love tea more than anything, you’re remarkably bad at making it.”

You whipped around to face him, cheeks flushed from the heat. Perhaps, embarrassment too. “I’ve never done this myself before!”

He smirked. “So what you’re telling me is, you—the noble lady who demands two spoonfuls of honey, a splash of milk, and leaves steeped for exactly five minutes—doesn’t even know how to turn on a stove.”

You squinted at him, pointing the wooden spoon in your hand like a weapon.  “I wasn’t trained in stove operation. I was trained in courtly etiquette, embroidery, and how to pour tea, not brew it.”

“Guess you can’t learn everything from a book, after all, hmm?”

A cheeky jab, referring to your tendency to study those book of yours like sacred texts, especially those smutty romance novels. He liked stirring reactions from you, finding them rather endearing.

You huffed and set the spoon down, officially unarmed, and Eris couldn’t help it. He reached over for the spice jars, not paying mind to which one he grabbed, casually tossing a pinch of it in your direction. 

You gasped, nose scrunching up in the most adorable way, blinking fast as you tried to process what had just happened. You let out a cough before shooting him a glare.  

“You’re an asshole,” you wheezed, swiping at your nose, though the small curve of your lips betrayed you.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Eris replied, stepping forward just as your hand inched toward the spice jar. He beat you to it, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you so close that it rendered your arms useless.

Brown flecks of powder still dusted your mouth, your nose. His gaze dipped to your lips, then to your watchful eyes before coming back down. Your lips parted, just slightly. And he leaned in to kiss you.

Cinnamon, it had been cinnamon he had thrown your way. He chased the sweetness of you and the spice, a hand reaching for the nape of your neck to deepen the kiss. But the smell of smoke had you pulling away and gasping, “the kettle!”

More smoke curled from the spout in a menacing little cloud. Eris cursed and turned off the stove, using his magic to clear the air out.

“Congratulations, my fair lady, you almost burned down my cabin.”

“You must have given me the wrong instructions!” you accused, pointing dramatically at him, and Eris fought the urge to laugh.

“I told you to turn the knob. That’s all you had to do.”

“That’s exactly what I did,” you insisted. “I have witnesses.”

He raised a brow, following the motion of your hands toward the hounds. Two had opted to lounge inside, snoring softly on the kitchen floor. One of them must’ve sensed your gazes on her for she lifted her head and turned to look at you. With a small huff, the hound rose and made her way to you, nudging your hand with her nose.

Of course. Even the hounds liked you.

He should’ve known then too. His hounds had taken to you immediately. He hadn’t expected that. They didn’t usually warm to strangers, mirroring the same reservations as him. But with you…

 “Remind me again,” you said, turning back to the counter to clean up some of your mess. “Why you dragged me to the middle of nowhere?”

“Thought I’d teach you how to cook,” Eris replied casually. In truth, he just wanted to spend more time with you without the dangers that lurked in the forest house. “Can’t have that future husband of yours starving when your staff is out because his lovely wife only knows how to pour tea.”

You paused, a spoon halfway to the sink. “Excuse me?”

“What?” he said innocently, as if he hadn’t just shamed you for being incompetent in the kitchen.(As if he hadn’t secretly sabotaged every noble suitor who came to you, hoping you’d stay unattached a little longer.) “You’ve got a dream, don’t you? Pretty little estate. Charming, respectable husband. Six little monsters running around—”

“I never said anything about six.”

“So just the four then?” he grinned, finding your reaction amusing.  “Or maybe three. A nice, odd number. With stupid, little matching names, no doubt.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are. Let yourself be ‘dragged’ here too.”

“Whatever,” you huffed. Then, you looked around the kitchen.  “But what are we supposed to cook?”

“Fish.”

“I don’t see any fish.”

“We’re going to go catch them.”

You blinked. “Catch? With what?”

Eris’s grin widened. “Oh, you’re going to absolutely hate it.”

But you didn’t. Or if you did, you were stubborn enough to pretend otherwise, just to prove him wrong. He wouldn’t have put it past you.

There was a grimace at first as you waded into the river beside him, the cold water lapping around you. You muttered something about how ladies don’t belong in streams, how your mother would faint dead away if she saw you now. Your words faltered when Eris rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His lips twitched, clearly catching the way your gaze lingered a moment too long.

Then came a sudden squeal as your foot landed on something squishy beneath the surface. Your hands shot out, gripping Eris’s bicep. He was almost certain you’d turn right back around. But as you steadied yourself, you slowly let go of his arm and waited patiently for instructions. 

Eris showed you first. The same way he’d taught his brothers once, crouching low and catching a fish effortlessly. Then, whether by beginner’s luck or some favor from the Cauldron, you caught one too.

And promptly squealed again, louder this time, as it flailed violently in your hands and smacked Eris squarely across the face.

You froze in horror, your hands instinctively flying to your mouth, then quickly dropping when the smell of fish hit you.

And you laughed.

The kind of laugh that tipped your head slightly back and made your eyes shine.

He should’ve been annoyed. He remembers clocking Lucien when something similar had occurred during his lesson. All he could do was stare at you as the sunlight danced along your cheeks. Your hair had come undone, your skirts muddied. All elegance had been abandoned and still, somehow, you were the most radiant thing he’d ever seen.

He almost thought it, then.

Almost.

But he caught himself.

Because he couldn’t feel that way about you.

a/n: The last scene between Eris & Jayce happens years after the start of your relationship btw. The power of Paramore has been fueling these past updates. I've been off these past 3 days & all I've been literally doing is writing. It's been nice lol. I'm eager to get to the scenes/parts that I've been playing out in my mind since the beginning of this series.

Also, hope it was somewhat clear that the husband Eris referred to was not himself. At this point, he's close enough to reader to know her dreams and hopes (of her finding a nice husband to settle down with, starting a family, etc) and teases her about it. He does not think of himself in her future, even though he's been lowkey sabotaging it bc he's in denial of his feelings.

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@tele86, @bubybubsters, @k-homosapien, @mariaxliliana, @kathren1sky-blog

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General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

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@alwayshave-faith, @xadenswhore, @kodafics

[rainydetectiveglitter]

Where You’ll Bore People Based on Your Taurus Placements 🐂💤

In my opinion, Taurus is the most boring sign. I’ve got the stories to back it up. One time, a Taurus Sun coworker spent what felt like hours telling the office about how she came up with the name for her son. She went on and on, and after all that drama, the name she picked? Michael. Yep. Michael. Everyone in the office was so disappointed. You could feel the collective "meh" from the room. 😐 I dated a Taurus once, and I swear—he was freaky and boring. He’d try to bring in spontaneity, but it was so forced. I can’t even explain how he managed to make the freaky stuff feel dull. 🤷🏽‍♀️ I’m a Taurus Moon myself, and I definitely bore people with my emotions. I’ll start diving deep into my feelings and everyone’s just kinda like… can we not? I feel it, but I can’t help it. 😅 A Taurus 11th House friend stuck to their toxic friends, no matter how bad things get, because it's familiar to them. You still talk to these people? 10 years later? Boring. Your circles stay the same. People and friendships that drain you, but at least you know what you’re getting? 🥴 So, let’s talk about where you might bore people based on your Taurus placements:

Taurus in the 1st House: You’re all about your routines and comfort zones. You take things slow and steady, which sounds good on paper, but it can come off as predictable and a little uninspired. People might find your vibe calming, but it’s not exactly something that sparks excitement. Your ability to stay grounded is admirable, but when you’re too comfortable, it feels like you’re stuck in place. 🤐

Taurus in the 2nd House: You’re focused on your material world, whether it’s your money, your possessions, or your values. Conversations with you might revolve around what you own or how you’re securing your future. While stability is great, people might start zoning out when all you can talk about is your latest purchase or your routine financial goals. It’s comfortable, but not thrilling. 😴

Taurus in the 3rd House: Your communication is reliable, but it’s also a bit repetitive. You’ll stick to familiar topics and tend to circle back to the same ideas. It’s easy for you to fall into a pattern, but that doesn’t always keep things fresh for your audience. You’re not really into shocking people with new thoughts or taking conversations into unpredictable directions. Instead, you’re happy with what you know, even if it doesn’t get anyone excited. 🗣️

Taurus in the 4th House: Home is your sanctuary, and you thrive in stable, familiar environments. You love routine and sticking to what you know best. While this is comforting, it can also make you come off as someone who’s unwilling to step outside of their bubble. You prefer the predictable comforts of home over spontaneous adventures, and while that works for you, it might bore others who crave excitement and change. 🏡

Taurus in the 5th House: Romance and creativity are important to you, but your approach is a little too safe and steady for some. You don’t take many risks in love, and while you’re loyal, you’re not the most exciting partner. Your creative endeavors tend to stick to what you know, and there’s not much room for surprises or risk-taking. That comfort zone might keep you from exploring new ideas or experiencing the thrill that others look for in love or art. 🎨

Taurus in the 6th House: Routines, routines, routines. Work, work, work. You thrive when you’re able to stick to a structured plan, and your focus on productivity can be admirable. But people around you may get bored when all you talk about is how you’re getting things done or what’s next on your to-do list or work. There’s not much room for spontaneity or risk in your day-to-day life, and when you’re stuck in your groove, others might find it hard to break out of the monotony with you. 📝

Taurus in the 7th House: Relationships are important to you, but your need for stability and predictability can make you a little too comfortable in them. You value loyalty, but sometimes that leads you to stick around in relationships that no longer bring you joy or growth. You’re not one to rock the boat, and while that’s great for consistency, it can make things feel stale and stagnant. People may get bored with how little you change in your partnerships. ❤️

Taurus in the 8th House: You’ve got deep, intense emotions, but your need to control them can sometimes make those feelings feel a little... heavy. You’re not the type to share things easily, so when you do, it can come off as too much. Instead of letting go and allowing for emotional depth to flow freely, you try to keep it grounded, which can drain the energy from what should be transformative moments. People might find your emotional world hard to tap into. 🔒

Taurus in the 9th House: You’re someone who likes to stay in familiar territories, even when it comes to your belief system or philosophy. While others are exploring new ideas, you might cling to your tried-and-true mindset. You’re not one to shake up your worldview, and while that can be a source of comfort, it doesn’t exactly make for exciting conversations or experiences. You may bore others by resisting new ideas or avoiding risks when it comes to personal growth. 🌍

Taurus in the 10th House: You’re practical, reliable, and focused on achieving your long-term goals. But your need for stability and control can make your career or public image feel a little too predictable. While consistency is key to your success, it can make you come off as unexciting, especially to those who crave something more dynamic. People might get the feeling that you’re too focused on safety and not enough on taking risks or embracing new opportunities. 🏆

Taurus in the 11th House: You’re loyal to your circle, but your need for familiarity can keep you stuck in relationships that no longer serve you. You might find it hard to let go of old friends or groups, even when they’ve become toxic or stagnant. This tendency to cling to the past can bore others, as it’s hard to spark new energy when you're constantly returning to what's comfortable and familiar, even if it no longer brings growth or joy. 👯‍♀️

Taurus in the 12th House: You’re a little secretive and tend to retreat inward, keeping things to yourself. Your need for privacy makes it hard for others to really know you, and when they try, you may push them away. While you're introspective and deep, people might find it hard to keep up with your mysterious energy. Your tendency to withdraw when things get heavy can make you seem distant, and as much as you value your inner world, others might find it hard to stay engaged with you. 🕊️

So yeah, Taurus placements can make you steady, reliable, and comfortable but sometimes, that comes off as boring. Embrace the stability, but maybe try adding a little unpredictability for fun. 😉

[meadowfics]

boredom got a new bestfriend

kang dae-ho x pregnant!reader

pregnancy has been exhausting, but luckily your partner is here for you.

warnings: post-squid game au. ptsd themes included but this is mainly comfort I swear

it felt like you were feeling postpartum depression before you even gave birth to the baby.

your daughter is the best thing to be happening for you right now, a human-being sharing the dna of you and your sunshine of a husband.. but you hate the discomfort.

your belly is a little bit bigger for someone who is 34 weeks along.

the doctor predicts that your girl will come out a little bit more developed than the average infant.. great.

growing up for all of your life, you slept on your stomach.

sleeping on your side and/or back during this pregnancy makes you wake up each hour, ready to throw up or cramped due to the uncomfortable position.

the lack of sleep has been killing you, and you know it will not get any better once the girl arrives.

don't worry, dae-ho has been the best partner ever, doing as much as he can to help you!

he doesn't know how it feels to carry a baby for nine months, especially a baby thats in a bigger percentile (thanks to his genetics), but he can see how much its affecting you mentally.

the man will cuddle you to sleep, give you foot massages, head massages too.. but it seems like his daughter wants to give you hell.

you're bored throughout the day as well.

its all of the time.

before your pregnancy, you used to go on walks and do chores and run errands for other people for money.

well, you had to before you joined the games.

the games are apart of the reason as to why you barely get any sleep, scared that you will wake up to someone killing you with a fork to add money to the pile.

however, you remind yourself that you are safe.

the baby is safe, you are with dae-ho, and you're all alive and safe.

even if you aren't comfortable due to your belly..

now, you cannot do a simple task like going to the grocery store without getting tired.

you've had enough, you cannot wait for the six weeks until your daughter is born.

one night, it reached its point when you went to sleep beside dae-ho.

the man's arm was wrapped around your fully developed belly, he loved to hold his daughter that you carried.

you laid on your back, your head laid down on the pillow looking up at the ceiling.

it was 12:02am when you fell asleep.

a big kick caused by your daughter made you jump awake.

dae-ho didn't wake up after you moved his arm from your stomach.

thankfully since you want him to get his sleep at least.

when you checked the time, tears immediately poured out of your eyes.

its 12:12am..

you couldn't even get ten minutes of good sleep without your body, or your daughter, stopping that.

walking out of the bedroom into the living room, you decided to turn on an old sitcom rerun that played on the overnight channels.

that did not entertain you.. nothing seemed to.

you tried to romanticize the moment, going to quickly grab some water and a fruit bowl so you could eat and relax.. but nothing worked.

sleeping was the best option, but waking up every ten minutes is driving you insane.. so why sleep at all?

"baby?"

you saw dae-ho enter the living room, wiping his tried eyes with his hands.

he is just wearing his plaid pajamas and no shirt. sexy.

sex could help the boredom, since intimacy with dae-ho is never boring, but you were too exhausted to even move at all.

"why are you awake?"

you softly ask, unaware that he could ask you the same thing.

which he is..

"I was going to ask you the same thing, since you're watching a sitcom marathon at one in the morning.."

dae ho mumbles, his big hand resting on your thigh as he looks ahead at the show on the television.

"your daughter is not letting me sleep, so I figured that watching television could pass time.. but that is not helping."

you frown.

dae-ho frowns too, moving his hand from your thigh and gently rubbing your belly.

he moves his head down towards your belly as well, going to talk to your daughter through your nightgown.

"awh, sweetheart, why are you being so mean to your mommy?"

you smile at this gesture, knowing your daughter will go right back to kicking your organs all over the place.

"I can't sleep and I am very bored.. I don't know how I am going to last these six weeks, dae."

you plead.

the man looks up at you, guilt in his eyes, as he tried to think of a solution.

"well, I can offer besides cuddles and physical affection to help you sleep comfortably.. but maybe I could stay up with you so you are not so bored as well?"

the tired man speaks through his raspy voice.

"no, dae-ho, you need your sleep."

"you need it a lot more than I do.."

dae-ho smiles,

"you will need to gain enough energy when its time to push next month!"

he's right.

how were you supposed to birth your daughter if you were too tired to push?

the man sees worry flash before your eyes and retracts his words,

"wait I was kidding, I--"

"dae-ho, I know, don't worry!"

you giggle.

you relax into your man's arms while watching the boring show on the television.

it feels like your daughter stopped her soccer/football game happening inside of your uterus.

so you close your eyes to see if your mind will take you to sleep.

you focus on dae-ho's scent since your nose is against his chest.

the first thing you notice is that dae-ho used your body wash while he showered at some point.. your vanilla body wash.. wow!

suddenly, you couldn't process anything else as you fell asleep with dae-ho.. since he already fell asleep before you.

when you wake up, the sun is shining through the curtains and you were back in your bed.

you were... comfortable.. woah.

something you haven't felt since before your belly starting growing with your baby.

the soft ivory blanket was warm against your cool skin, the pillow soft underneath your ears.

dae-ho is still asleep, his back facing towards you.

you move yourself to get behind him, big spooning him as your belly pokes his lower back.

"goodmornin', my baby."

dae-ho's raspy voice speaks, taking your small hand and kissing your knuckle lightly.

"good morning, handsome."

you smile, feeling refreshed.

looking over at the alarm clock, the time reads 10:38am

taking a huge sigh of relief, you cuddled into dae-ho more, happy to finally get some good rest after months of failure.

"how did you sleep?"

dae-ho mumbles against your soft hands.

"I slept good, for once."

you giggle.

"see, I knew my little talk to (daughter's name) would work!"

dae-ho smiles and you giggle.

"thank you, love."

masterlist

[valluvsberries]

ok so watched the new fear street a couple hours ago and is this a safe place to say that it kinda sucked? like it was good but it was too overhyped. i had high hopes for it too bc the other 3 movies were so good but this one was just..boring? it just felt like your average horror movie and it was way to predictable. i also feel like arianna greenblatt would be so good in horror but this film just didn’t do her justice. ok bye im going to sleep😣😛

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: what you secretly desire

Hello and welcome to this reading! Here I will tell you what you secretly desire. I hope you enjoy this reading!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Patreon Masterlist

The extended version of this reading can be found on my patreon, the link of which is here

Pile 1:

You desire a home, a safe haven. Wherever you are in your life right now, whether it is alright or bad, you want something different. You want to be on your own, and have friends and family around you. You need a romantic partner who is there for you and looks out for your every need. You want someone to take care of you and help you figure things out; who supports you into becoming who you are. You want to have freedom, to not have to worry about things and finally be able to focus on yourself and heal. You’ve had a lot of shit over you, you went through lots of hardships that you haven’t been able to completely process yet. You always feel like you are on edge, your stress level being higher than most people, and you want that safe haven in order to be able to let that all go.

Extended reading > paid readings

Pile 2:

You want stability. You want a career with a solid salary, and some of you also want to have a partner as stable as you. You want to have a life in which you don’t need to worry as much, a life in which you don’t need to keep things in mind or be afraid of things constantly. You don’t want a life with constant adventures; you want to have solid and reliable relationships, a nice family of your own (kids aren’t required in order to get this) and predictable happenings. You’ve had so many things going on in your life that getting a non-adventurous future might be for you. This doesn’t mean boring, this doesn’t mean not having fun; it simply means that you don’t want lots of spectacular stressful things coming your way.

Extended reading > paid readings

Pile 3:

You desire a relationship. You want to be loved and cared for. You want someone to tell you and remind you of how beautiful and awesome you are. You want someone who tells you it’s worth it to keep going, that you are a strong person and someone who will never give up. You need that companionship, you miss it and you want it desperately. You want someone to love you, and want someone to love back. You need that comfort in words of affirmation as well as in physical contact. Even though friends and family compliment you from time to time it is not the same, not even close. There is a different kind of love you need, something more intimate, something that feels even more meaningful to you.

Extended reading > paid readings

[knoepfl]

Shadows That Linger

Characters:

-Melon

-Reader (You)

-Lions

Trigger Warnings:

Power imbalance

Psychological manipulation

Implied violence

Masterlist

Words: 723

--- The dimly lit room hummed with tension. Melon sat casually at the head of the table, his mismatched eyes glinting as he listened to the lions argue amongst themselves. They were bickering over territory disputes—boring, predictable, and ultimately beneath him.

His sharp smile flickered as he leaned back, fingers drumming against the polished surface of the table. He was the picture of calm, but his mind was elsewhere, as it often was these days.

The lions’ voices quieted when a soft knock echoed against the heavy oak door.

It was hesitant, barely audible. Melon’s ears twitched.

“Enter,” he said coolly, his eyes narrowing.

The door creaked open, and you stepped inside, timidly clutching the edges of your sweater. You barely raised your eyes, scanning the intimidating figures of the lions before settling on Melon.

He arched an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “This is… unexpected.”

You hesitated in the doorway, shrinking under the weight of so many stares. For a moment, you almost turned back. But then Melon’s gaze caught yours—sharp, curious, but not unkind. It was enough to give you courage.

“I-I…” you started, your voice soft as a whisper. “I’m sorry. I… I wanted to see you.”

The lions exchanged incredulous glances, a few growling under their breath.

Melon’s smile widened, sharp and amused. “Gentlemen, it seems I have a visitor. Don’t let me stop you—continue.”

He waved a hand dismissively, but his gaze remained fixed on you.

As the lions returned to their discussion, you quietly padded across the room, your steps barely audible. When you reached Melon’s side, you hesitated, your fingers fidgeting nervously.

Without looking up, you whispered, “I… I’ll wait by the door if it’s better…”

Melon chuckled, the sound low and oddly warm. “And have you eavesdropping on sensitive matters? No, little one. If you insist on being here, then stay.” He gestured to the empty chair beside him. “Sit.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you obeyed, slipping into the chair and folding your hands in your lap. The lions cast you wary glances, but you kept your head down, avoiding their scrutiny.

Melon, however, kept stealing glances your way. There was something endearing about the way you sat so quietly, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

The meeting dragged on, and though you didn’t say a word, Melon could feel your presence like a warm shadow. When the lions finally filed out, grumbling among themselves, you let out a small breath of relief.

Melon rose from his chair and stretched lazily, his sharp grin firmly in place. “You’ve got a knack for showing up at inconvenient times,” he teased.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, staring at the floor. “I… I didn’t want to bother you. I just… missed you.”

He tilted his head, his mismatched eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Missed me, did you? And what do you call this, then?” He gestured to the chair you’d been glued to for the entire meeting.

You looked away, your voice barely audible. “I just… feel safe when you’re around.”

For a moment, Melon said nothing. His expression softened, his usual sharpness dulling ever so slightly.

“You’re a peculiar creature,” he murmured, crouching in front of you so his face was level with yours. “Soft-spoken, timid… and yet, you refuse to leave my side. Why?”

You fidgeted, your fingers twisting the hem of your sweater. “Because you saved me,” you admitted quietly. “And… you’re the only one who’s ever looked at me like I’m more than just a predator. I don’t want to be alone again.”

Melon studied you in silence, his expression unreadable. Then, with a wry smile, he reached out and flicked your forehead lightly.

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for clingy little things like you,” he said, his tone playful but not unkind. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Your eyes widened, and a small, shy smile tugged at your lips. “O-Okay.”

He straightened and offered you his hand, which you took hesitantly. As the two of you left the meeting room, Melon’s grin widened.

For all his sharp edges and fractured morals, he didn’t mind having you around. You were quiet, unassuming, and utterly devoted—an odd contrast to his chaotic life.

And deep down, though he’d never admit it, he liked the way your presence felt. Like a shadow that lingered, warm and unyielding. ---

[astrolook]

Astrology & The “Why Am I Attracted to Chaos?” Phenomenon 💘🔥

Ever wondered why you keep falling for human red flags? 🚩 Or why your "type" is just an emotionally unavailable tornado with nice hair? Astrology might have the answers—and no, it’s not just your Venus sign (though she’s definitely guilty too). Let’s talk about why some of us are magnetically drawn to chaos like a moth to a flame (or like a Pisces to a walking disaster).

The Placements That Scream ‘I Can Fix Them’ Syndrome

💘 Venus in Fire Signs (Aries, Leo, Sag) – You don’t like boring. In fact, if it’s too stable, you’re immediately looking for the exit. You want the drama, the passion, the “we met on a chaotic night and now we have matching tattoos” energy.

🎭 Venus Square Pluto – Love, for you, is a life-or-death experience. If there’s no intensity, you’re suspicious. You attract transformative, messy, or forbidden relationships. You want a soulmate, but half the time, you end up with a supervillain.

🌀 Moon in the 8th House – Your emotions are tied to deep, karmic, and often traumatic relationships. You don’t do casual. Either it’s all-consuming or get away from me. You might even subconsciously seek partners who trigger emotional chaos just to feel alive.

🚨 Mars in Scorpio – You don’t just like passion—you require it. A safe, normal, predictable relationship? Sounds like a death sentence. You crave a partner who challenges you, seduces you, and ruins your life just a little bit.

💔 Venus in the 12th House – Your love life feels like a Shakespearean tragedy. You attract unavailable people, secret relationships, and karmic loves that leave you emotionally wrecked. You’re either in a soul connection or ghosted with no explanation. No in-between.

👀 7th House Neptune – You see potential in people that doesn’t actually exist. You fall for illusions, build relationships in your head, and then get shocked when reality doesn’t match the fantasy. "They’re just misunderstood." No, bestie, they’re just emotionally unavailable.

🔥 Venus Opposite Uranus – You need excitement, even if it means instability. Your love life is a series of plot twists. You attract unpredictable partners, love whirlwind romances, and somehow always end up in a situationship that doesn’t make sense.

Why Do We Attract Chaos?

It’s Familiar. If your childhood was unpredictable, your nervous system equates chaos with love.

It’s Exciting. Let’s be real—stable relationships don’t hit the same as a passionate emotional rollercoaster (until you realize you need therapy).

It’s Astrological. Some placements thrive in intensity. If your chart screams "love is war," you probably attract (and lowkey enjoy) the mess.

But here’s the thing: chaos isn’t love. Stability can be passionate. And not every soulmate connection has to feel like a season finale cliffhanger.

TL;DR: If Your Love Life Feels Like a Telenovela, Check Your Chart. 🎭

Wondering why you keep attracting emotional disasters? Want to break the cycle of loving human hurricanes? 🌪️ Message me for a love/relationship reading, and let’s untangle your cosmic relationship drama. 💌✨

[van1llafairy]

♡*∘ thinking about Ellie inviting you over for a Netflix date...

hearing the chime of a notification, then tapping awake your screen to see a message from your favourite contact saved on your phone, the corners of your lips turn up to a stupid smile you can never help when replying to Ellie's text.

obviously, the first reply that you don't even have to think of when smashing your thumbs to the screen is 'YES CYA' to her 'netflix at mine??' text.

you couldn't get to her dingy apartments quick enough, after a swift knock, the door swung on it's hinges and there stood was an Ellie in a ratty band shirt for PJs, massive grin as you smother yourself in her arms, "nice seeing you too," she snickered in your hair as you couldn't get close enough to her in her hold.

the next hour or so is wastes scrolling through every gloriously horrific trailer Netflix has to offer through all it's platform, with both of you splayed across the couch, tangled with one another, you're draped over her lap, leg thrown over her, her arm clutching you closely, your's loosely encircling her waist, occasionally squeezing whenever you'd both laugh at a shitty line delivered with extravagant poeticness.

"Ugh, God, nothin' good on this dumbass streaming service.." her groans vibrate in her chest and you can feel it buzz as your cheek is mushed against her.

"wait, wait-" you usher, reaching to her lazily propped wrist to yank the controller from her and scroll back to the previous show, "this is true cinema." muttering, you rest back against her chest, as the opening credits roll, "they need to project this on the empire state building some day." Ellie sighs seeing the familiar shots captured, "i swear, you always pick the same movies..." she scratches circles into your scalp, slowly with her words , "...over, and over, and over..."

" cause it's a classic." you muffle between a mouthful of M&Ms, "you should learn to appreciate art in it's purest form." this statement earns the longest eyeroll from Ellie yet, she's setting new records, "i've seen this, like, a hundred times over with you..." she querulously huffs,

"a hundred times lucky then." you're smiling and snuggling closer, its like you're digging into her, burrowing in her warmth.

everything is quiet a moment besides the few strings of intro music, the AC blasting and a few crunches between the two of you as you pop pieces of M&Ms and jellybeans into each other's mouths.

"im just saying, its... y'know, kinda predictable. after the second watch." you huff and deliver a light smack to her arm, "i prefer the term 'safe'."

"boring." she quips and just as you're about to beat on her with a pillow she plucks the remote from your grasp and flicks to another show, "this is what i call 'Art' " she smirks and then another absolutely shitty show no one had ever heard of flashes on the screen.

defeated, you rest back into your human pillow and accept the fate of watching crap for the rest of the evening, her hand rests on the top of your spine. its like this every time you're over for Netflix. the same five shows on rotate depending who's picking, usually it's you.

[initforthethrill]

CATE BOT WHERE WE’RE IN A MOVE THEATER??🤭🤭

you guys can’t request things like this (kidding!) because it automatically turns on the horny receptors in my brain and then i spiral and you end up with something like this...

oh, and bot at the end baby<3

coming soon aka torturing cate during a romcom and cate seeking revenge after tw: girlcock, g!p user, semi public sex, movie theater sex, car sex, vaginal fingering, sex in a moving vehicle (don't try this at home kids!), hand job, dick riding, established relationship 5.5k+ words

Cate had picked the movie, obviously.

A glossy, mid-budget romance set in Italy, complete with tragic misunderstandings, sun-drenched kisses, and a guy who looked like he’d been genetically engineered in a vineyard. It wasn’t award-worthy, not even close, but Cate had read the reviews. It was the kind of film designed to make you feel something soft and safe, the kind where no one got exploded or eviscerated. The kind of movie she didn’t get to see much of growing up—too frivolous, too emotional, her mother would say.

So she drags you to the Friday night screening because she wants this. Because she’s had a shit week. Because sometimes you just need to see someone get their heart broken under a Tuscan sunset and then kiss someone else in the rain twenty minutes later. And because you always come with her. Even when you grumble about it the whole drive there.

“She’s not even that hot,” you say, looking at the poster outside the theatre. Your fingers are laced with Cate’s, rings cool against Cate’s knuckles.

Cate doesn’t look at the poster. She looks at you. “You’re such a liar.”

You shrug. “Okay. Maybe a little hot. Like, librarian-hot. But still. That guy looks like he’s made of ravioli.”

Cate snorts. “You wish you were made of ravioli.”

“I wish you were made of ravioli,” you shoot back, tugging her closer. “So I could eat you.”

Cate rolls her eyes, blushing hard anyway. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet you’re still holding my hand,” you sing, smug as hell, as you cross the lobby toward concessions. Cate doesn’t answer. Just squeezes your fingers tighter.

You do this every time. Play the reluctant tagalong in public, even though you’re the one who always gets the tickets ahead of time. Even though you already have the AMC app on your phone. Even though you remember Cate’s exact popcorn order without asking—extra butter, layered, just a sprinkle of parmesan cheese powder and a cherry coke slushie with two straws. So you can share. Duh.

“Need anything else, princess?” you tease while waiting in line, hips bumping together. Your hand slides down, casually tugging at the hem of Cate’s coat like you own it. Like you own her. “Maybe a soft pretzel? One of those little hot dogs you hate but always steal from me anyway?”

Cate hums. “Mmm. I think I just need you to behave.”

You lean in like you’re about to whisper something sweet. Then nip her ear instead.

Cate yelps. Shoves you off. “Babe.”

You’re already grinning, unapologetic. “Just making sure your senses are fully engaged for this cinematic masterpiece.”

They sit toward the back—you like the aisle seat, and Cate likes being able to lean on you without thinking. The theater is only half-full, mostly older women and bored couples. Cate settles into her seat, adjusts her coat, and lets herself exhale.

The movie starts with a sweeping overhead shot of Florence. Cate’s already misty-eyed five minutes in.

It doesn’t last long.

Because you?

You don't care about the movie.

Didn’t care when Cate sent you the link to the trailer earlier that week (“It’s not your usual thing, but it looks romantic…”). Didn’t care when you bought the tickets in advance. Didn’t care when you pulled into the theater parking lot and made your predictable chick-flick joke. Didn’t even try to pretend once you were inside.

Because you have exactly one thing on your mind tonight, and it’s sitting beside you in a peach cashmere sweater, smelling like overpriced perfume and kissing you between sips of slushie.

Cate looks so good.

Like, distractingly good. High ponytail. Gold hoops. The kind of glossy, smug mouth that begs to be kissed stupid. Really, you shouldn’t have been expected to pay attention with Cate looking like that.

The second the previews end, you’ve got a hand on her.

Not even sneaky about it—just spread your fingers over Cate’s knee like you belong there. Like this is your girl, and you’re bored, and your girlfriend is so warm and soft and bratty when she tries to pretend she’s annoyed.

Cate whispers, “Do not start.”

You don't even flinch. Just let your palm drift up, slow and deliberate, until you feel Cate stiffen beside you. Until her thigh tightens under your touch.

“I’m literally just sitting here,” you whisper back. “You’re so reactive.”

Cate grits her teeth. Keeps her eyes glued to the screen.

Fine, you think. We’re doing this the hard way.

You drape your arm around the back of Cate’s chair, casual and lazy. Twirl a piece of her ponytail around one finger. Then lean in until your lips are grazing the shell of Cate’s ear.

“You wore this little sweater on purpose,” you murmur. “Didn’t you?”

Cate exhales hard. Doesn’t respond.

You nuzzle lower, nose pressing into Cate’s neck. Your hand trails beneath the hem of the sweater, warm against bare skin now, brushing just below Cate’s ribcage.

Cate jerks slightly when your thumb swipes just beneath the wire of her bra. Her hips involuntarily shift forward.

“Tell me to stop,” you say, quieter now, lips brushing Cate’s jaw.

Cate stays silent.

And that’s all the permission you need.

You kiss her temple once, softly, reverently. Then mutter: “That’s my girl.”

You start small. Thumb rubbing circles beneath the cashmere. Pressing little kisses into Cate’s neck until you feel your girlfriend melt into you, breath hitching every few seconds.

Then you dip lower. Just a little. Palm flattening against Cate’s stomach. Your pinky grazing the waistband of her jeans.

Cate’s legs squeeze together.

“Baby,” she whispers, panicked and breathless. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

You kiss her again, slower this time. Right below the ear. “Then be quiet.”

Cate glares at you.

But she doesn’t move away. Not exactly. Just settles back in her seat with a sharp exhale, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the screen like she can force her brain to absorb the plot through sheer willpower. She tries to ignore you. Tries to will her body into submission.

The couple is arguing again—something about a passport and a missed opportunity—but it sounds muffled, distant. Background noise to the growing heat pooling low in her stomach.

You shift beside her, palm still pressed against Cate’s stomach like it belongs there. Your fingers don’t move, not exactly—but they twitch, just enough to remind Cate they’re still there. Just enough to make her shiver. You’re not teasing anymore—you don't have to. The contact is maddeningly casual, like you’re completely unaware of the storm you’re stirring.

But Cate knows better.

She can feel the grin radiating off you without even looking. That awful, smug certainty. That particular brand of quiet mischief you wear when you know you’ve already won, when you can feel Cate’s pulse stuttering and hear the way her thighs press together for dear life. Like you know Cate is one more breath away from unraveling.

And still, your hand stays there.

Steady.

Unmoving.

Cate inhales slowly. Tries to calm herself.

She can do this. She can sit through the movie. She can ignore her girlfriend beside her. She can keep her composure.

Cate glares at you. But she doesn’t move away.

You take that as permission—of course you do.

You lean in again, slower this time, brushing your lips against Cate’s jaw. Then lower. Featherlight kisses beneath her ear, down the curve of her neck, each one lazier than the last. Like you’re not just trying to get a reaction—but collecting them. The way Cate’s breath catches. The way her hips shift, almost involuntarily. The way her hand twitches against the armrest, caught between slapping you away and pulling you closer.

And all the while, your hand drifts lower. From mid-thigh to just above the knee. Then back up, a little bolder. Your thumb strokes the inseam of Cate’s jeans, slow, like you’re testing how far you can go before Cate cracks.

It’s not far.

Cate jerks her shoulder, suddenly, hard enough to break the contact. “Stop,” she hisses, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. “Seriously.”

You pulled away, unbothered, lips still parted from where they’d just been pressed to her skin. “Touchy,” you murmur, mock-innocent. “Wonder what’s got you so worked up.”

Cate focuses on the screen again. Tries to pretend her heart isn’t slamming. That she isn’t soaked. That she hasn’t considered, in detail, how fast she could drag you into the bathroom.

But instead—because she’s civilized, and because her entire nervous system is short-circuiting—Cate shrugs off her coat and spreads it delicately over her lap.

She tells herself she’s just cold.

That’s it. Just a little chill in the theater. Climate control issues. Nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been slowly, methodically pressing your hand all over Cate’s body for the past thirty minutes like it’s some sort of fucked-up challenge. Like you’re not in public. Like Cate isn’t one well-timed touch away from breaking her own self-control.

She shifts in her seat, subtly. Her sweater rides up a little.

You notice immediately, a low sound escapes you, barely audible, and Cate feels it in her spine.

“Cold?” you murmur, lip brushing the curve of Cate’s ear.

Cate’s voice is stiff. “A little.”

“Mm. Lucky me.”

Cate glares. “Don’t.”

But it’s already too late.

Your hand slips under the coat like it belongs there. Like it’s not a goddamn crime scene waiting to happen. Your touch is light at first—just resting on Cate’s thigh again, no movement, no pressure. But it simmers. A quiet, devastating weight. Like a storm cloud behind the ribs.

Cate stares at the screen, unblinking, while her heart tries to claw its way out of her chest.

Onscreen, the couple is dancing in a piazza. There are twinkle lights. Strings swell.

Cate’s teeth sink into the inside of her cheek.

You shift beside her, ever so slightly, fingers dipping just an inch lower, ghosting over denim. Then circling. Then pressing—so gentle it almost doesn’t count.

Cate’s breath hitches.

She fists her hands in her coat and curls her toes in her shoes.

“Still cold?” you whisper, voice thick with amusement.

Cate turns her head, eyes glassy. “You’re going to hell.”

Your grin is all teeth. “You first.”

Cate lets out a sound. Just a little one. A soft, strangled whimper she immediately swallows down—but not fast enough.

Two rows up, a woman turns and shushes them.

Cate freezes.

Absolute mortification courses through her like electricity. Her ears go hot. Her vision swims. She tugs her coat higher over her lap like that’ll somehow erase the shame of getting felt up during a Tuesday night showing of some stupid rom-com.

You don't flinch. Don’t remove your hand.

Cate doesn’t make eye contact.

The two of you sit like that—frozen, guilty, burning—until the woman turns back around.

And then—then—Cate finally breaks.

She exhales. Closes her eyes. Whispers, “Fuck it.”

Your breath catches.

Cate turns her head. Meets your gaze. And that’s all it takes.

Your lips crash together—quick, messy, filthy. Cate kisses like she’s trying to shut you up, teeth catching on your bottom lip, hand curling in your shirt like an anchor.

You moan into her mouth, hand sliding fully between Cate’s thighs, and neither of you are watching the movie anymore.

Cate tries to keep quiet. Really. But your hand is still under her coat, moving slowly, and your mouth is hot and open and everywhere, and Cate is barely hanging on.

At one point, she whines—an honest-to-God whine. And you groan.

Cate slaps a hand over her own mouth.

You kiss her cheek. “Yeah. You’re so cold.”

Cate doesn't answer. She can’t. Her thighs are shaking. Her coat feels like a furnace on her lap. The screen is a blur of Italian countryside and romantic resolution, but Cate couldn’t follow it if her life depended on it. Her entire body is humming—tight and coiled and teetering on the edge of something that feels both humiliating and inevitable.

She needs a second. Needs to get away. Regroup. Pull herself together before she does something completely insane.

So she untangles herself.

Quietly. Carefully.

Cate tries to leave.

Tries to gather what little dignity she has left—sweater wrinkled, coat clutched in a death grip, thighs trembling—and escape.

The bathroom. That’s the plan. Five minutes of cold water, a locked stall, and a prayer. She doesn’t even need to finish. Just to breathe. Just to stop shaking.

But you don't let go.

Not when Cate tugs at your wrist. Not when she tries to sit forward. Not even when she whispers, "Please," low and wrecked and raw.

Your grip just tightens.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you say, voice velvet-dark and so, so smug. “You started this.”

Cate glares at you, cheeks bright pink, eyes shining. “You started this.”

You shrug. “And I’m gonna finish it.”

Your hand slips back under the coat like it never left. Like it was always there, rightfully and inevitably. You find Cate’s button, the zipper, the heat. Cate’s already soaked—has been for the last thirty minutes—and you moan under your breath like it’s hurting you not to taste.

Cate’s breath stutters. She turns her face away. “This is—this is—”

“Shh,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple. “No one’s watching. Just let go.”

Cate squeezes her eyes shut.

And then you touch her.

Really touch her. Not just teasing anymore. Not gentle. Just perfect.

Two fingers. Slow circles. Pressure that builds and builds like a storm tightening in her spine.

Cate bites down on the collar of her sweater to keep from crying out. Her thighs snap shut instinctively—but you’re right there, murmuring filth against her ear, coaxing her open again, pulling her apart piece by piece.

“You’re gonna make a mess in your jeans,” you whisper, teeth grazing her earlobe. “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

Cate whimpers.

Her fingers clutch the armrest. Her chest heaves. And when she finally tips, it’s full-body and silent—eyes wide open, mouth parted in a soundless cry, hand clenched in your hoodie like a lifeline.

Her orgasm shudders through her in waves, slow and rolling and devastating.

She slumps back in her seat, trembling. Boneless. Gone.

You hold her the whole time.

The credits roll.

The lights come up.

Cate still hasn’t moved.

Her coat is wrinkled beyond repair. Her hair is a disaster. Her lip gloss is absolutely gone. She can feel the mess in her jeans. And you—God, you—are sitting next to her like you just aced a test, sipping at your shared slushie and looking very proud of yourself.

Neither of you remembers what the fuck happened in Tuscany.

Cate finally turns her head.

“Don’t,” she croaks.

You grin. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t say anything.”

You raise both eyebrows. “I didn’t even—”

Cate smacks your arm. “I swear to God, asshole.”

You snort, reaching over to straighten the collar of Cate’s sweater. “You’re so pretty when you cum.”

“Babe.”

“I mean it. Like, glowing. Post-credit scene worthy.”

Cate groans. Covers her face with both hands.

You lean in and kiss the side of her neck. “Wanna go home?”

Cate doesn’t answer. Just nods.

You take her hand and drag her out of the theater, trembling thighs and all.

The car is quiet.

Cate hasn’t spoken since you left the theater.

You keep sneaking glances over, expecting another half-hearted glare, a flushed reprimand, maybe a scandalized little "You’re the worst person I know." Something to feed your ego. But nothing comes.

Cate’s just…sitting there.

Face turned toward the window. Eyes unreadable. One hand in her lap. The other curled tight around the passenger door handle, knuckles white. Her lip is still swollen from being kissed too hard. Her thighs are pressed together like she’s trying to contain something.

You bite back a grin. “You okay over there, sunshine?”

Cate doesn’t respond.

Just shifts in her seat. Adjusts her coat.

Silent.

You chuckle to yourself, cocky and warm, fingers tapping the wheel like you’ve won something.

Which is exactly the mistake Cate’s been waiting for.

It starts with her hand.

Quiet. Casual. Sliding across the center console with feigned laziness.

She rests it lightly on your thigh.

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “What’s this?”

Cate still doesn’t answer.

Just squeezes.

You glance down. Then at her. “You good?”

Cate hums softly. Low. Dangerous. Then curls her fingers just a little deeper into the denim between your legs.

Your breath catches. “Cate—”

“I’m cold,” Cate says simply, repeating her lie from earlier with poisonous sweetness. “Just keeping warm.”

And then—before you can react—Cate pops open her seatbelt and leans over.

She steadies herself on the center console, hands already undoing your fly.

“Woah—what are you—Cate, baby, we’re in traffic—”

“No we’re not,” Cate murmurs, pressing her mouth to the side of your throat. “We’re on a long stretch of highway and there’s no one behind us.”

You open your mouth—want to say as if that’s any safer, want to object, or beg, or something—

But then Cate’s hand slides into your boxers, immediate, hot and sure and perfectly cruel.

You jerk the wheel a little.

“Holy fuck.”

Cate smiles.

For the next three miles, you forget how to breathe.

Cate is deliberate with it. Every stroke, every squeeze, timed to the rhythm of the road. She kisses your neck like she’s being sweet—like this is some romantic gesture instead of revenge. Her voice is sugar-soft, whispering filth against her skin.

“You made me cum in a movie theater,” she breathes.

You groan.

“You didn’t even let me leave.”

“Fuck—”

“Now you’re gonna finish in the driver’s seat.”

“Jesus Christ—”

“That’s not my name.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Cate nips at your ear. “Focus on your driving. We don’t wanna get pulled over.”

You whine. Actually whine. Your hips lift into Cate’s hand, helpless, desperate. You try to focus on the road—as if that was even remotely possible—but your vision keeps blurring. The lights of the city are a smear. Your knuckles are white on the wheel.

Cate licks at the curve of her jaw. “Gonna cum for me?”

You nod wildly. “Yes—yes—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Good girl.”

And that’s it.

That’s all it takes.

You gasp—loud, broken, body tensing like a taut wire—and cum into Cate’s hand with a desperate whimper, the car swerving ever so slightly in your grip.

You barely make it to the exit.

Cate leans back against the seat, smug and glowing, wiping her hand daintily on a napkin from the glove box.

“You okay, sunshine?” Cate teases.

You practically slump over the wheel.

“I’m never letting you pick the movie again.”

Cate grins. “You say that every time.”

The red light that follows the exit stretches unnaturally long.

You’re breathing like you just ran a marathon—jaw slack, eyes wide, hands trembling slightly against the wheel. Cate, radiant and unbothered in the passenger seat, is still smoothing her hair like she didn’t just wreck her girlfriend while in motion.

You try to speak.

Fail.

Try again.

“…I think I died.”

Cate tilts her head, biting back a smile. “I’d say rest in peace, but you’re still gripping the wheel like it’s a crucifix.”

You whimper. “I almost crashed the fucking car.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Oh my God.”

“I told you to breathe.”

“You told me to finish in the driver’s seat.”

Cate shrugs. “And you did. You’re welcome.”

You make a strangled noise and veers off at the next turn, tires crunching over gravel as you pull into the nearest parking lot—a mostly empty strip mall glowing faintly under dead neon. The car lurches to a stop.

Silence.

Cate watches you, amused. “You good?”

“No,” you say immediately. “No, I’m not good. I just got jerked off on the highway like a fucking truck stop whore by the love of my life and I can’t feel my legs.”

Cate preens. “Love of your life?”

You groan. “Shut up.”

You slump forward, forehead against the wheel. “I saw heaven. I touched it. There was light and harps and an old guy in a robe welcoming me home.”

Cate pats her knee. “Aw. Baby’s first religious experience.”

You lift your head, eyes glassy. “What did you do to me.”

“Nothing you didn’t deserve.”

“Cate.”

“Hm?”

“I’m still hard.”

Cate cackles.

You slap her arm. “You can’t just do that to someone and then sit there like a Bond villain drinking from my slushie!”

Cate sips from the straw, completely unbothered. “Well technically, it’s our slushie, baby.”

You groan again. “I need a cigarette. Or a prayer. Or a sensory deprivation tank.”

Cate leans over, runs a hand through your sweaty hair, voice devastatingly sweet. “You need to pull yourself together so we can get back to your dorm. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You make a sound that’s basically a whimper if it married a threat.

You shift in your seat. Wince. “You’re actually going to kill me.”

Cate just grins and sucks on the straw again.

You slouch deeper into the seat, still blinking like you just got struck by lightning. Your shirt is rumpled, your fly is still undone, and your thighs are visibly shaking.

Cate finishes the slushie with a satisfied little slurp.

You groan.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

Cate hums. “You said that already.”

“No but like—really. They’re tingling. My knees are soup. My bones are jelly. I’m fucked.”

Cate reaches out and squeezes your thigh, sweetly. “You’re fine.”

“I’m not fine. I’m unwell. I’m spiritually compromised.”

You groan again, dramatically, dragging a hand down your face.

Cate smirks, raising a brow in amusement. “So what—you’re just gonna sit here until your soul reattaches to your body?”

You blink at her. Slow. Wide-eyed.

Then she says it.

Voice all soft, mock-serious, the smirk already forming:

“…My legs are trembling. I can’t possibly drive any further.”

Cate narrows her eyes.

You shift in your seat, twisting toward the backseat. “Tragic, really. Guess we’ll just have to make do.”

Cate stares. “Make do.”

You’re already crawling back there.

“I’m literally still recovering,” you add, tossing a hoodie across the seat like it’s a mattress. “I think I need some help. Possibly a ride.”

Cate scoffs, heat already pooling low in her stomach. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You said you weren’t done with me,” you purr, now reclining across the backseat like a martyr, legs spread, hoodie under your head like a pillow. “Well, come on then. Do your worst.”

Cate shuts the glovebox. Unclips her seatbelt.

And climbs into the backseat.

With the slow, terrible grace of someone who knows exactly what she’s capable of.

She kneels over your lap, palms braced on either side of your shoulders, eyes flickering down to where you’re already half-hard again, breath shallow. The backseat isn’t built for this—too narrow, too cramped, too visible—but that only makes Cate smile harder.

“Oh, baby,” Cate murmurs. “You sure you can handle me twice in one night?”

You grin.

“You know I can, Dunlap.”

You stretch out. Jeans shimmed halfway down your thighs, spare hoodie bunched beneath your head, hair damp with sweat. You’re panting already, pupils blown wide, thighs parted like you’re begging—like you want Cate to take you apart.

Cate hovers above you, calm and collected. Rolls her sleeves up slow, like she’s clocking in for overtime. Like this is business.

Then, still holding eye contact, she reaches down. Unbuttons her jeans. Slides them down her legs inch by inch, deliberate and unhurried, until they’re bunched at her knees and kicked aside without a word. Her panties are still on—barely. But it’s enough to make you whimper as Cate straddles you.

She grinds down once, slow.

You gasp—head snapping back, hips bucking, voice rough with desperation: “God yes—you’re perfect—fuck, I love you—”

Cate smiles. Sharp. Sweet. Devastating.

“Oh?” she purrs, grinding again, this time meaner, dragging her hips down slow and steady while her hands pin your wrists above your head. “You love me now?”

You’re panting like a prayer as the soaked fabric of Cate’s panties drags agonizingly slow over your cock. “I’ve always loved you. Fuck.”

Cate leans in, teeth grazing your throat. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Cate reaches between you to tug her panties to the side and sinks herself down onto you with one swift motion. You try to muffle the sound—bite your lip, clench your teeth, something—but it still escapes you, a low, wrecked moan that fills the car like a confession.

The movements are harder now, rough and rhythmically cruel, as Cate uses the whole length of her body to ride. To claim. To break.

You shudder. Try to buck up, try to meet her rhythm, but Cate holds you down. Hands pressing into your chest, your shoulders, your hips. No escape.

“I said,” Cate growls, voice low and perfect and terrifying, “say it again.”

“I love you,” you gasp. “I love you—fuck, baby—”

“Louder.”

“I fucking LOVE YOU—”

Cate’s nails dig into your hips. She keeps moving—relentless, hips working in long, brutal strokes until you’re trembling, lip bitten raw, whole body thrashing beneath her.

And the sounds—the obscene slap of skin on skin, the fogged windows, the whimpering—it's all too much.

You grab at her—shoulders, thighs, anything you can reach—but Cate’s pace doesn’t change. She’s focused. Possessed. Riding like she’s got something to prove.

Like this is penance.

Like she owns you.

And you? You let her.

Let her take everything. Let Cate fuck you dumb. You’re whispering between gasps, voice shredded: “Please—please—don’t stop—need you so bad—I’m yours—yours—yours—”

Cate grabs your face.

Forces you to look her in the eye.

Then rides you through it—right to the edge, right to the trembling, shattered finish line—until you’re gasping, crying out, choking on your own breath as you fall apart for her again. And Cate just keeps going.

Because she can.

Because you love it.

Because Cate Dunlap doesn’t fuck around when she’s in charge.

And by the time you finally collapse—blissed-out and ruined, heart pounding against your chest, eyes unfocused—Cate is glowing.

Breathless. Proud. Possessive.

Cate leans in, presses a kiss to your collarbone.

Then whispers, smug as ever:

“Now that’s how you shut a butch up.”

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your joint breathing—shallow, shaky, uneven. Cate doesn’t move. Just stays there, pulsing with afterglow and pride, her hands braced on your chest, her body still slick with effort.

You’ve gone pliant beneath her. Eyes closed. Arms limp. Mouth parted like you’re still trying to remember how air works.

The windows are fogged straight to hell.

Cate’s still straddling you, but the motion’s long since stopped—her hips slowing, softening, until she’s just there, settled warm over your stomach, watching her girlfriend come back to earth in real time.

You’ve got one arm flung over your face, mouth slack, hair sticking to your forehead. Your chest rises and falls in heavy, uneven waves. You look wrecked—not just fucked out, but rebooting. Like someone shook your soul loose and you’re still waiting for it to settle back into place.

Cate leans down and kisses you once, feather-light, then pats your chest.

“Good girl,” she whispers.

You make a sound—not even a real word. Just a whimpering, hoarse little sigh of surrender.

Cate giggles.

And with the kind of catlike grace that should be illegal post-orgasm, she slowly climbs off, pulls her jeans back on, and shimmies up to the front seat.

You watch her go, dazed and still spread eagle across the backseat like an abandoned doll.

Cate flips the visor down. Smooths her hair. Reapplies her lip gloss with the precision of a sniper. She’s glowing. Effortless. Like she just stepped out of a spa instead of riding her girlfriend to apocalyptic ruin in a parking lot.

You groan into the hoodie beneath you. “How the fuck do you recover so fast.”

Cate clicks the lip gloss shut. “Hydration. Good posture. Ruthless efficiency.”

“You’re a demon.”

Cate turns slightly, admiring her reflection in the rearview mirror. “I prefer the term succubus.”

You groan again, dragging both hands over your face. “I’m still gonna haunt you for this.”

Cate raises an eyebrow. “Is that a threat, or a promise?”

You just glare. But it’s half-hearted at best.

Cate finishes fixing her hair, then reaches over and drops a fresh napkin onto your bare stomach like a blessing.

“Clean yourself up, sweetheart. I’m taking us to McDonald’s.”

You blink up at her.

“You mean drive-thru, right?”

Cate smiles.

“No, I mean I’m walking in there looking like a dewy little angel while you limp behind me like a lesbian scarecrow. Let’s go.”

They make it to the McDonald’s fifteen minutes later.

Cate’s the one driving now—of course she is. She’s fully recovered, sitting upright, hair re-clipped, lip gloss flawless, humming along to the radio like she didn’t just commit a sex felony in a public parking lot.

You, by contrast, look wrecked.

You’re curled into the passenger seat with your hoodie pulled over your head like a shroud. One sock is missing. Your jeans are still unzipped. There’s a faint red flush continuing to work its way down your neck, and every time the car hits a bump, you lets out a quiet, involuntary “fuck” like a ghost being exorcised.

Cate glances over at you. Smiles sweetly.

“How you doin’, sunshine?”

You groan. “I need ice cream.”

Cate arches a brow. “Oh?”

“A McFlurry,” you mutter. “Please. I deserve one. You owe me one.”

Cate bites back a laugh. “I owe you?”

“You assaulted me with your pussy.”

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“I’m begging you. M&M. Extra M.”

Cate smirks, turning into the drive-thru. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dying.”

The speaker crackles.

“Hi, welcome to McDonald’s. What can I get for you?”

Cate leans casually out the window, eyes still locked on your glassy, half-lidded stare. “Hi! Can I get a large fry, six-piece nugget, and a regular Coke?”

You tug at her sleeve. “Cate.”

Cate glances at you. “And a small water.”

You practically screech. “CATE.”

The speaker is silent for a beat.

“Would you like anything else?” the employee asks warily.

Cate sighs, dramatically. “Fine. And one M&M McFlurry for the whimpering pile of post-coital rubble next to me.”

There’s another pause.

“…I’m sorry, what size?”

“Large,” you croak from the passenger seat. “Please. Please. I’m going to pass away.”

Cate hands over her card at the window. Taps her fingers on the door. “You know, this is the second time tonight you’ve said you were gonna die. Should I be worried?”

“I saw God and she had your face.”

Cate beams.

“I know.”

They pull forward. The poor teen at the next window does a double take when he sees the pair of you—Cate glowing like she just walked out of a Lush commercial, and you. A crumpled tangle of limbs and regret in the passenger seat, looking like you need a trauma blanket and an exorcism.

“Uh,” the cashier says, handing over the Coke, “you okay, man?”

You grab the McFlurry like it’s holy communion. “No.”

Cate sips her drink. “She’ll live.”

You moan into the spoon on the first bite, eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t deserve you.”

Cate hums. “Correct.”

The two of you park in the corner of the lot.

Not far from the building, just enough to be out of sight. Cate flicks the engine off and turns in her seat, legs tucked up, fry box resting in her lap like a prize. You’re still unraveling, slowly peeling back your hoodie like you’re emerging from hibernation.

“You look like you just survived a natural disaster,” Cate says, taking a fry.

You blink at her with red-rimmed eyes. “You were the natural disaster.”

Cate pops the fry in her mouth. “Aw. Flattery.”

You flop toward her like a corpse. “I need comfort.”

“Oh, now you want comfort?”

“You rode me to death. I deserve softness.”

Cate considers it. Then opens her arms.

You immediately crawl over the console—knees catching on the cupholders, limbs a mess—until you’re draped across Cate’s lap with a sigh like a dying Victorian widow. Your face buries into Cate’s stomach.

Cate smiles.

Runs her fingers gently through your sweat-damp hair, brushing it back off your forehead. “You really are so dramatic.”

“M’legs don’t work.”

“You’ll recover.”

Cate picks up a fry and holds it in front of your mouth.

“Say ‘ah.’”

You groan. “You’re insufferable.”

Cate wiggles the fry. “Open up, sweet girl.”

You grumble, but open your mouth anyway. Cate feeds you, smug and satisfied.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you mutter around the bite.

“I literally brought you back to life. You’re welcome.”

“I think I should sue.”

Cate pats your cheek. “You moaned my name like a dying prayer. That holds up in court.”

You hide your face in Cate’s lap, groaning.

Cate giggles. Twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “Okay, okay. Do you want to finish your McFlurry?”

A hand weakly emerges from her thigh. “Yes please.”

Cate hands it over, resting it carefully in front of you. You scarf it down like a child with a fever.

You sit like that for a while—windows cracked, soft music from the radio drifting around you, city lights painting faint halos in the windshield. Cate strokes your hair. You breathe in sync with her. The air smells like salt and sugar and sweat.

“Cate,” you murmur after a few minutes. “I really do love you.”

Cate looks down. Kisses your temple.

“I know.”

♡ | midnight matinee

[hannie-dul-set]

나비 / NABI — ONE.

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, alcohol consumption, rumors as a plot device, mentions of sex, a few minor injuries. WORD COUNT. 9k (out of 40k).

NOTE. hehe...it’s here. this first part is a little short and slow, but things are gonna start picking up from here! please let me know what you think so far 😭😭 half my soul was injected into writing the entirety of this i will never be the same again 💔 also, i recommend listening to beomgyu’s covers while reading this and the upcoming chapters HAHA anyhow, please enjoy!

모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE

YOU STILL DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. Ever since you and he reconciled and publicly became friends again, your life has never known quiet— all thanks to the countless insects constantly buzzing around him, and by consequence around you, every damn day. And it’s not like you can keep avoiding him. Choi Beomgyu has made the executive decision to take advantage of the guilt you’ve been feeling, so for the past month, you’ve been a slave to his whims. 

Responding to 3AM ice cream runs even though you’re swamped with assignments. Going to parties hosted by people you don’t know the fucking names of because he keeps calling you a boring loser. And, the cherry on top, having to deal with Lee Heeseung’s even more annoying presence, just like how you’d predicted he’d behave if he ever finds out you and Beomgyu are friends.

Which he did. Much to your despair and agony.

“Beomgyu, your girlfriend’s here to see you.”

Case in point. You spare him nothing but an eye roll when he lets you in the clubroom of the, ahem, coding club. You’re here because Beomgyu texted you to fetch him a matcha latte and since you’re playing as his slave at the moment (and until your patience runs out), you obliged out of the kindness of your heart, only to get a truckload of teasing in return.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Yeonjun throws you a peace sign from their worn out sofa by the door the moment you enter. He’s accompanied by a good number of chip bags on the cushions.

“Hey,” Hanbin greets you as well when you pass by their alleged meeting table. Which, by the way, has stacks of leftover takeout containers and some empty, some half-empty plastic jugs of water. “Beomgyu is on the computer.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. This clubroom is a fucking gremlin hole.

“You know what.” Your path towards Choi Beomgyu is interrupted by Hyunjin, suddenly popping out of the half-wall separating the lounge area from the computers at the back. You jump, because what the fuck? “My heart races everytime you come here. I still get flashbacks from the day you threatened to wreck our safe haven. I think you gave me PTSD.”

Ah, yes. That day. That was eventful. It was the first time you’ve seen Choi Beomgyu cry.

“Serves you right, gossip snorter,” you say. “Out of the way, I have business to deal with.”

Hyunjin indeed gets out of your way, and there he reveals a row of four computers lined up against the wall with their assigned nerds mashing on the keyboards and yelling profanities at matching game screens. You zero in on the one on the far left corner. Surprisingly, Beomgyu is relatively calm compared to the others. You tap on his shoulder. He turns his head around.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his office chair back from out of the desk with a swivel while removing the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck. You notice Jeongin seated beside him, who looks up at you only for a moment only to flinch back to the screen. “You’re here?”

No, shit. You jangle the latte in front of his face, head cocked, and he reaches out for it. But then you quickly jerk back your hand before he can snatch it from you. “Nuh-uh. Pay up.”

“Tch,” Beomgyu clicks his tongue and shoots you a bitter look. “Hyung, can you toss me my jacket?”

Someone from behind does indeed toss him his jacket, and at that very moment as well, Heeseung decides that it’s a great time to indulge in his newly founded hobby. “Hey, how about me? Why didn’t you get me a drink?” He joins the already crowded crevice in the back and swings an arm around your shoulder. “You get a boyfriend and forget all your friends. Have you forgotten that you two got together because of me? I’m hurt, I’m so hurt.”

Your face scrunches up. “Literally, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not my boyfriend.” You elbow Heeseung off, eliciting another whine from him. When your eyes snap back at Beomgyu, you see that he’s preoccupied with going through wallet. You kick his chair. “Say something, dipshit.”

Beomgyu hands you a bill and exchanges it with the matcha latte. You wait for him to speak. He takes a long sip, pulls his face away from the straw with a grimace, hands back the drink to you, then says, “What she said.”

You look at him, drink now back in your hands.

“What the fuck?”

“Keep it,” he says, putting his headphones back on. “Don’t you have class?”

Your jaw clenches. Fucker made you run an errand for nothing. He gives you an asshat smile of goodbye then spins his chair back to his computer. You scoff and smack the back of his head, causing his headphones to slip off. “Bye.”

“Hey!”

“Later,” Heeseung bids you off, and it’s followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the inhabitants of the testosterone infested, stinky gamer cave. Seriously, every time you drop by here, you feel an ounce of your soul shriveling up and rotting away. Yeonjun very politely opens the door for you. You hear one of them yell out before you leave.

“Come over tomorrow. Hanbin hyung’s treating us to pizza!”

And with that, you’re finally free, matcha latte in hand and a desire to breathe in some fresh air because you’re pretty sure the air is polluted in there. But still. It’s been a lot easier to breathe recently than when you two weren’t on good terms.

“Saved you a seat.”

You make it to class two minutes before the schedule. Minjeong proudly taps on the seat next to her, and you take the invitation. “As you should,” you hum, taking out your notes from your bag, and not long after Sungchan arrives and lands on the spot next to you.

It’s the week before finals. Prof Shin starts the class and decides to fuck all of your study schedules by giving a last minute assignment due next week as well. 

“Does this guy want to give us depression before the summer or some shit?” Minjeong complains the moment your professor leaves the lecture hall.“I swear to god, if another prof gives us an assignment due over the break, I’m killing myself.”

“You two have plans over the break?” asks Sungchan, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and the three of you head out for lunch, funneling out into the hallway along with the rest of your blockmates.

“I’m going home,” says Minjeong.

“I have summer classes,” you answer.

Sungchan stops in his tracks. “You serious?” 

“Yup.”

“You bet on it.”

He looks at the both of you like you’re a bunch of withering old ladies and he’s very much unimpressed. “Make some time for the last week. I’m throwing the wildest summer rager and you two can’t miss it.”

You’re pretty sure you replied with something along the lines of an agreement, but you’re not quite sure. The thought completely slips out of your head throughout the next week because, well, finals. And before you know it, your first semester of uni comes to a close, and summer comes crashing in at full swing.

#1: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HIM FOR WASTING SO MUCH OF YOUR TIME. It’s eight in the morning. Monday. You’re standing in front of Choi Beomgyu’s door.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s the start of your summer semester so you thought you ought to make something healthy just to kick things off on a good note, but as you were scavenging ingredients for fried rice, you realized you were out of salt so that’s why you’re here. You knock on his door again, three times, and you manage to finish watching five more Instagram reel clips before Beomgyu finally answers the door.

Creak.

“Took you long eno—”

You’re caught off guard by the mop of shaggy hair greeting you, clearly having just woken up. His eyebrows are knitted together while he lets out a yawn. He’s in a tank top. It rides up a little when he stretches his arm to reach for an itch on his back.

“What?” he rasps with a grunt, squinting at you after he’s finally settled himself into reality. “Why the hell are you up so early?”

You clear your throat. “Got any salt?”

Beomgyu blinks at you, processing your words. Then he steps back, points a thumb towards his kitchen, and nudges his head in the same direction. “Go crazy.”

With that, Beomgyu lets you monopolize his kitchen cupboards while he flops onto the sofa. You laugh seeing him practically melt into the cushions. He’s never been a morning person. You’re pretty sure he fell asleep like three hours ago.

“I’m gonna steal some of your chives too,” you inform. Beomgyu makes a muffled noise that you assume is a yes, so you go ahead and take the liberty. When you pop out of his kitchen area, you see him in a not very spine-healthy posture on the same sofa while scrolling through his phone. “I’ll drop off some bokkeumbap later.”

Beomgyu’s eyes flit up from his phone and he wiggles into a more normal position. “Do you have plans today?”

“Class,” you answer on your way back out.

“It’s summer?” he says. “Did your dumb ass get your calendars mixed up?”

You roll your eyes, stopping right before the door with your hand on the knob and turn your head to face him. “I thought I could use the early credits so I won’t have to take too many classes in my fourth year. So I could focus on my internship and all.”

There’s a pause. You can see the three dots slowly appearing in succession above Beomgyu’s bedhead. “Oh,” he says. There’s a drop in his voice. Only for a second. “Well, have fun, nerd.”

You stick your tongue out and leave his apartment with your borrowed goods, returning once more after you’ve finished cooking to give him a portion. Honestly, without the food your moms send over, you’re pretty sure he’d be living exclusively off of takeout.

Anyhow, you head to campus for your first summer lecture, and— for the first time god knows how long— your entire day is spent with a lingering, and almost unusual echo of quiet.

“That’s it for our syllabus. We’ll be starting our full swing of classes next week. See you.”

When you exit the lecture hall, the hallway is near empty. The courtyard too, with only a few students littered about underneath the midday sun. It’s so quiet, it’s weird. Around this time, you’d usually be having lunch with Sungchan and Minjeong, sometimes Beomgyu, sometimes Heeseung, but that brat’s not around right now either because he’s on vacation. 

Not having anything to do, you decide to stop by the campus cafe— Horangnabi. You don’t go here often, committed to the shop near your apartment because, well, it’s more convenient for your morning coffees, but you weren’t able to grab one earlier since you cooked breakfast. Might as well get a latte before you leave campus.

“Hi, welcome!”

You’re greeted by the barista, and like most of campus, it’s pretty empty inside as well. "A spanish latte, please. Iced.” While making your order, a sign on the counter catches your eye.

Part-timers, now hiring. You blink, letting it settle for a moment. Maybe for too long of a moment, because the whir of the milk frother snaps back your attention. 

“Are you interested?” 

The barista slides you your drink over the counter with a smile. You take it and press your lips together in a moment of thought. 

You only have classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, and it’s too inconvenient, not to mention expensive to go home, back and forth from Seoul to Daegu and vice versa, on the days in between. Most of your friends are on vacation or went back to their hometowns over the break so you have no one to hang out with over the summer. And you could use the extra money.

“I don’t have any experience, though,” you tell her.

“That’s fine. You’ll get a few days of training,” she answers.

Tempting. You’re almost convinced. “What if I just want to work for the summer? Can I quit when the next semester starts?”

“A lot of students do that,” she hums. You see her take a square of tissue paper from the display, jotting down a series of numbers before sliding it over to you as well. “Julie. Call me if you wanna take the bait.”

You spare one more second to ponder. Then you take the number from under her fingers and carefully stuff it into your pocket. “Thanks.”

The heat has finally settled the moment you exit the cafe, a little bell jingle trailing you from behind, and you take a mental note to bring an umbrella with you from this day forward. Their coffee is good, you have to admit. If you work there for a good month or two, maybe you’d even end up saving cash by making your own drinks instead of having to buy them.

You decide to take the path through the parking lot to make your exit. There’s more trees around, meaning more shade because it’s really freaking hot. It’s very bare in the lot. You pass by a few cars, of which you assume belong to faculty and staff, until one of them honks at you, and you flinch to a halt.

Another honk. Your brows furrow. Looking around, you try to find the culprit, but you end up moving your head in just the right direction for the sun to beam its light directly into your eyes, blinding you temporarily, and you wince. God damn it. You hear another honk again, and you feel yourself start to get irritated. It’s coming from behind you. You spin your heels, vision still muddy from the direct sun attack, but nevertheless you start walking.

“Seriously, who the hell keeps fucking— oh!”

You bump into someone. You feel them balance you by your shoulders.

“You should’ve seen how dumb you looked.” You hear a snicker. Of fucking course, it’s Choi Beomgyu. Who else would it be? “But hey, you make a pretty good pigeon jerking your head around like that.”

“Fuck you,” you jab his arms off. “What are you even doing here?”

Beomgyu notices your coffee and takes a shameless sip from it before answering, “Get in the car. It’s so freaking hot out, jesus.” 

You don’t really have a choice because he practically shoves you into the passenger’s seat. So gentle. You nearly spill your drink all over when your ass lands on the leather cushion. 

“I was just about to sleep again after you dropped off the food earlier,” he explains while starting the car, and you watch him intently. Whenever your schedules matched, you’d sometimes go to and from uni together. But you can’t seem to get used to the image of your friend acting like a responsible adult. It’s fucking with you a bit. “But then I got a message from Prof Kim, asking if I could come by the office today.”

He pulls out of the parking lot, and the cool air finally settles into your skin. “For what?” Beomgyu lets out a groan. Must’ve been for a not great reason.

“The EMC department is hosting a conference of some sorts this year and he asked if I could be a volunteer facilitator, ask a few others from the department to help and join along too.”

“Oh? You gonna do it?”

“Ugh. I don’t know.” You pass through security out the main gate and start heading back to your apartment. “I wanted to come home over the break but the working days for this thing will apparently last throughout the summer. Prof Kim did say this will be minused from my volunteer hours, but I don’t know.” Beomgyu then gives you a side eye all of a sudden. “Speaking of. You undutiful daughter.”

“What?” you leer.

“Your mom hoped that you’d be home for the summer, too. Why didn’t you ask her first before enrolling for summer classes?”

“Why the hell do you two keep talking about me behind my back?” You’re shriveling up. Seriously, why does your mom contact him before you? This is getting ridiculous. “And I’m doing all this so I can graduate early and find a job early, by the way. I don’t even have a full week of classes so I can still come home the first week of July.”

Apparently, you two argued for long enough to finally reach your building. 

“Tell me when you plan on going home,” he says, leaning against the wall beside your door watching as you key in your passcode to your unit. 

“Obviously,” you roll your eyes, smiling. The door unlocks. You push it open. “You’re my free ride after all.” 

Now, your expected response from that is another retort from him, how you’ve been exploiting his kindness and whatnot and you’d have to snark back as well. But for some reason Beomgyu just stays quiet. He says nothing, an unreadable look on his face as he looks at yours. You raise a brow.

“What is it this time?”

Choi Beomgyu says nothing. He lifts up an arm, points his index finger near your face, and jabs his finger straight into your forehead.

“I’ll send you a review of your bokkeumbap later.” He laughs at your appalled expression.

“You’d be shocked to find out it’s better than my mom’s,” you say back, a hand tending to the spot he just attacked unprompted.

“You wish.”

“Eat shit.”

“Oh, I definitely will.” 

You send him a kick, which he dodges before fleeing into the safety of his apartment. Slippery bastard. Anyhow, you call it a day and settle into your own place. Few hours later, Beomgyu indeed sends you a review of your cooking with a photo of an empty dish attached. Three out of five, he says. Slippery bastard turned ungrateful bastard.

The next day, you’re at Horangnabi again. The night prior, you called Julie’s number and gave her the news that you’re in, and she told you to come an hour before opening so they can get you settled.

You come in with a greeting, and you see Julie look up from behind the counter to wave you in with a smile. “You’re here! Hanbin, come meet our new part-timer.”

At the mention of Hanbin’s name, you immediately double take, and emerging from the door to what you assume is the storage area is indeed the Hanbin you know from the coding club. 

“You!” you immediately shriek, almost feeling a hint of betrayal because this is the first time you’ve seen him in daylight, because their clubroom is always so fucking dark. And in something other than the god damned flannels everyone in their club is always so fond of wearing like it’s an unspoken uniform. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, so it is you!” Hanbin happily exclaims. “I thought it was just someone with the same name.”

Julie was delighted to find out you two already knew each other. You skip all the necessary introductions and jump in head first into getting acquainted with the equipment instead.

“We’ll go through all of the drinks first. I also have the recipes printed out over here in case you need reference.”

Having a familiar face in an unfamiliar workplace is indeed a pleasant surprise, but there’s also a familiar sense of dread to have one of Beomgyu’s coding club buddies in here. Granted, he doesn’t annoy or tease you as much as the others, but those guys have already given themselves a label in your head, and Sung Hanbin is no exception to your collective bad impression.

“And then you twist the handle— just like that.”

You’re in the middle of your first latte, the espresso machine up and running. After which, Hanbin teaches you how to use the milk steamer without any difficulty, and you pour the milk into the same cup as the espresso you made earlier. “Wow,” Hanbin remarks. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I think it’s all thanks to the caffeine I’ve ingested,” you say. “Skill buff. Or whatever you guys say.”

Hanbin laughs and compliments your latte once more. Needless to say, it doesn’t take long for your discomfort to completely disappear because at this point in time, Beomgyu’s friends would already start asking you about him— where he is, why isn’t he with you, etcetera etcetera. But his name has not left Hanbin’s mouth even once, and it’s already the end of your first day.

“It’s always slow here, except on rare occasions, so you’ll be able to handle it with no problems,” Julie says before sending you off. “Anyway, Hanbin and I will be around during your shifts, so you can run to us in case a particularly grumpy student comes to order.”

Hanbin gives you a thumbs up and a bright grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

And that’s how you established your new routine for the rest of the summer. It’s just like Julie said. Things are pretty slow. The only notable thing that happened on your second day at work is Beomgyu sending you a very unflattering, low-angle selfie under the blinding lights of the faculty office glaring behind his head with the text message that he said yes to volunteering for the conference. Sad face emoji included. 

On Thursday, Julie taught you how to make a damn good waffle. On Monday next week, you got your first shitty customer. Finally on Friday, you decided to open your skeleton closet to Hanbin, because not once since your a little over a week of working here has he asked you about the whereabouts of Choi Beomgyu.

“You and Beomgyu are friends right?”

There aren’t any customers except for the regulars from Bio that are almost always found in the corner of the cafe until closing. Hanbin is wiping the already squeaky clean counter because there is nothing to do. “Yes?” he answers, a smile on his face, but with a tone that’s evidently confused. “So are you?”

Christ. Now you’re the one bringing that bastard up. “Right. It’s just a little odd.” There, you bring up what you’ve observed so far since working here, and the fact that you and him have shared actual conversations not involving your old friend, and how it’s pretty surprising to you. “One time, I thought someone was going to confess to me. Turns out he just wanted me to convince Beomgyu to help him rank up in League.”

“Well, I don’t really need any help in that area.” Hanbin laughs, shaking his head. “Sounds like you and him have been friends for a long time.”

Neither of you have told anyone about your history. No reason in particular. Beomgyu just never found the need to tell his friends that you’ve known each other from birth, and neither have you. But Hanbin’s presence, when separated from the rest of his friends, just feels like a blanket of comfort, and you find yourself spilling your guts to him— including the previous three to four month cold war you caused and the reasons.

Hanbin is patient. He listens the entire time with an attentiveness you can only compare to a saint. “I guess being a social butterfly has its unintentional consequences. I’m just happy to hear you two made up.”

“I probably would never regularly step foot in your dungeon hole otherwise.”

He laughs. “The guys in the club also tease you a lot, don’t they? Doesn’t it bother you?”

You press your lips together. “Yeah, but at this point it’s just white noise to me now.”

Hanbin looks at you. “That doesn’t mean you enjoy it either.”

Well. He’s not wrong. 

Your conversation gets cut short with the cafe bell signaling the entrance of customers. You look at the door. It’s a whole stampede of people. It’s Choi Beomgyu and his friends and you can’t even go on a day of talking about them without them showing up.

“Whoa, I’ve never been here before.”

“Dude, you’re in your third year. Where the hell have you been?”

“Doesn’t Hanbin hyung work here—”

“Yeah, let’s ask him to give us free cookies.”

“Hyunjin, buy me a drink.”

“Buy your own drink, nerd.”

“Hi, I’ll have an iced americano, and a— o-oh, my god.”

You’re face to face with Yang Jeongin who nearly pisses himself upon the recognition that it’s you behind the corner. It dominoes to the rest of the group. You don’t know why they’re being so dramatic. You let out a huff and a sigh. “An iced americano and…?” 

Jeongin doesn’t get to answer. Beomgyu unwedges himself from the group and squeezes his way to the counter. “You work here now?” 

You cock a brow. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Since when?” he immediately follows up. You’re a little taken aback.

“Since last Tuesday,” you answer after recounting. Beomgyu makes a face that burrows a pit in your stomach.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Okay. Now you’re very taken aback. There’s a cough from the crowd. And then a very intuitive, not-so-hushed remark from one of the boys. “Holy shit. They’re having a lovers’ quarrel.”

It hits a nerve. Hanbin quickly dissuades anything before you could open your mouth. “So, what are you guys ordering?”

The amount of drinks to make and pastries to bring out gets you busy for a while, but you still keep an eye on Beomgyu, watching as he settles back to normal joking mode with his friends while you try to find an opening to talk to him. You and Hanbin finish making all their orders, so you ask him if you can be excused for a moment. He tells you to go ahead and you make your way to Beomgyu, who’s sitting on one of the ends of the three conjoined tables in the more spacious corner of the store.

He’s talking to Yeonjun. When Yeonjun notices you approaching, he immediately quiets down, so you take this as permission to interrupt. You tap on Beomgyu’s shoulder. “Hey.” He turns around and looks up. “You good?”

Beomgyu opens his mouth, about to say something— “Ahem,” — but then Yeonjun clears his throat, accidentally catching the attention of the rest of the boys, and they’re suddenly popping out their heads like meerkats in your direction. “Should I give you two some space?”

“What’s going on?”

“They’re having a moment.”

“Oh my god.”

“Do you guys sell popcorn?”

You’re used to their teasing. You’re used to their bullshit, really. You’re fine if they pull on your hair strands inside their clubroom, but for fuck’s sake this is a public space. Heeseung isn’t even around, but it seems like all his clubmates caught his disease. Your bio regulars are sneaking a few glances at the commotion. There are other customers too. You’re visibly annoyed and embarrassed— which doesn’t go over Beomgyu’s head, because he notices. And he also looked like he’s getting irritated. 

“Hey, you two should just apologize and make up!”

Beomgyu gets up. You see his jaw clench. Oh no. You quickly grab his arm with a tug before he can do anything— only for Hanbin to show up with a tray, setting it down on their table in a less than gentle manner. They flinch. They shut up. Hanbin sets down a few plates with a chilling smile.

“We don’t have popcorn, but here are your fries,” he says. Wow. “Do you guys want to add anything else?”

There’s a single squeak from the group. “No, we’re good.”

Hanbin hums in acknowledgement and retrieves the tray from the table— not without sending you a thumbs up, to which you mouth a thank you in return. He smiles and nods before going back to the counter, and there you feel Beomgyu removing your hold on his arm from a while ago, and you quickly flit your attention back to him, fearing that you might’ve upset him. Again. Like last time.

“Wait—”

“Are you trying to slack off?” he jeers. You look at him, a little surprised. Beomgyu nudges his head to the counter and you see a few customers filtering in. He did remove your hand from his arm, but he’s still holding it. “I’m not upset because you didn’t tell me you started working here. Well. I was. A bit. But not anymore.”

You feel his thumb run through your knuckles, going over the bumps of each joint, followed by a gentle squeeze.

“It must’ve been heaven for you to get some peace and quiet for once. But then I had to bring these losers around,” he wrinkles his nose. You feel a load get off of your chest. Beomgyu lets go of your hand. “If you told me beforehand, I would’ve steered them away from here.”

“Well it’s fine as long as they don’t cause a scene.” You say the last part a little bit louder than conversational-volume. From the corner of your eye, you see Hyunjin cough on his fry. “Anyway, I gotta get back to work.”

“No shit. Go do what you’re paid for, slacker.”

He lands a smack on your back and you’re pushed off to do your job. Gosh. Hanbin welcomes you back to the station and the both of you are kept busy for the time being, up until late afternoon strikes, and Beomgyu says he can’t drive you home today since they’re still needed back at the faculty office.

“Your girlfriend can get home just fine! Prof Kim’s looking for us, hurry—”

And just like that, he gets lugged out of the cafe. Jeongin laments about returning to “printing hell,” whatever he means by that, and the walls of Horangnabi are once again returned to their original state— peace and quiet.

The bell jingles. You hear nothing but the metronomic melody from the speakers. “Your friends are so draining,” you tell Hanbin.

He just laughs. “They’re quite energetic.”

You should’ve appreciated the serenity and calmness of your first couple of days working here because for the next few weeks, the coding club has decided that the campus cafe is going to be their regular hangout spot from now on. Or until their summer volunteer work finally ends.

“You know, you’re so pretty.”

It’s the end of June now. You’re wiping off some spilled milk from the counter when Julie suddenly decides to dote on you. She’s on the other side of the counter, face between her palms, and your wiping stops, face flushed.

“I—I’m sorry?”

“You’re like the prettiest flower in a garden and I’d fend off all the other bees and butterflies just to have you for myself,” she doubles down. You release a laugh, mildly forced because holy shit, this is a new kind of attention. “No wonder you have all these guys buzzing around you all the time.”

Julie thumb-points at the corner the coding club guys usually occupy. You hear Hyunjin losing his shit over something—

“I think he’s the one they keep buzzing around, seonbae.”

—something Choi Beomgyu very likely said considering the grin he has on his face, and how Yeonjun is also collapsing on his shoulders. You watch as his grin disappears into a cup, taking a sip from the lime soda he ordered. Then he notices you staring. He settles down the drink and gets up. 

“Oh no, he’s coming over.”

“What?” he says after reaching the counter, taking the spot next to Julie. “Are you talking shit about me again?”

“Hey, not everything is about you, insect,” answers Julie. Those two have gotten pretty close too. “I was talking about how pretty our new barista is. She’s a breath of fresh air. A rose among the truckload of weeds sullying the pretty interiors of our dear cafe.”

Beomgyu snorts at the comparison. You give him the stink eye.

“I get what she means,” Hanbin slides into conversation. He hums and passes you the milkshake Jeongin ordered. It’s still missing the whipped cream on top. You fetch a container from the fridge and walk back to your station, only to be met by a sudden debate on what kind of flower you are now.

“No, no. She’s not a rose,” you hear Yeonjun interject. “Appearance wise, she’s like a daffodil. Personality wise, she’s a venus flytrap.” A few of them chortle and laugh. You roll your eyes and start shaking the container.

“You’re wrong, she’s a hydrangea!”

“Aren’t they poisonous?”

“Exactly.”

A few more give their pitches. Honestly, you’re pretty impressed by the amount of knowledge these gamer gremlin boys have. You finish Jeongin’s milkshake and give it back to Hanbin for delivery. Beomgyu is quiet throughout the whole debacle, until Hyunjin eggs him on to give his pitch. They need to hear the expert’s verdict, he says. Beomgyu just brushes them off until he notices you looking at him expectantly. He pauses. He’s actually thinking about it. You’re pleasantly surprised at his sudden thoughtfulness— that is, of course, until he actually opens his freaking mouth.

“You’re a milkweed.”

It’s like a ball gets punted into your head. It bounces off and lands on the ground. You hear a wheeze from the boys. You give Beomgyu the middle finger.

“A weed! Not even a flower!”

“Hey, they are flowers! Go look it up!”

Beomgyu can’t redeem himself anymore. You’re already looking at him with bitter disgust and Julie proceeds to call him a piece of shit.

“It really is a flower!” 

He still defends, pleading his case to you even after the topic has shifted. Julie has left to clean up some tables. Beomgyu remains in his spot on the other side of the counter until you decide to believe him and his alleged substantial botanical knowledge. 

“Sure, whatever,” you deride. Beomgyu is still pouty. “Anyway, your conference thingy is this weekend, right? We’re going home right after?”

“Yeah,” he says, still sounding a little bitter and you bite down a laugh. His eyes flutter down, noticing something on your chin, and offhandedly wipes off what you assume is some stray whipped cream from earlier with his thumb. “Do you wanna leave in the morning or afternoon?”

“Oooooh.”

Lee Heeseung suddenly rears his head near the counter to return their empty plates. He’s back from vacation and now he’s here to reclaim his rightful spot as your number one annoyance. “Get a room,” he says with a shit eating grin that you want to wipe the floor with.

“Why’d you even come back early?” you leer at him. “Weren’t you supposed to be island hopping until the end of July?”

He sticks his tongue out. Beomgyu just laughs. “I can’t miss Sungchan’s party. You’re going, right?”

Right. The alleged wildest, most epic summer rager Jung Sungchan mentioned before parting ways with you and Minjeong over vacation. He texted you about it again last night. You couldn’t leave him on read because he called you immediately after.

“Unfortunately,” you lament. “Sungchan’s gonna throw a tantrum if I don’t show up.”

“You know Sungchan?” Beomgyu suddenly asks. 

You give him a pointed look. “Duh, obviously. We’re in the same major.”

It’s like a lightbulb materializes on the top of his head. “Ah,” he says. “I forgot you had other friends.”

You quickly retaliate by attacking him with the nearest thing you can get your hands on: a dish towel. He lets out a very fake, very dramatic yelp of pain and tells on you to Julie noona for abusing your customers and that you should be fired. 

“You’re no customer, you termite.”

“Ack! Noona! She’s hitting me again!”

“Is this how the youngins flirt nowadays?”

Both of you freeze in frame— him trying to yank your weapon from your hands and you with an arm up ready to throw a punch— and turn your heads towards Heeseung, who has a very smug smile playing on his face. You shoot Beomgyu a glare before roughly tugging the dish towel from his grasp. “Shut your mouth, Hee. How’s it going with your compsci girlie, anyway. You’ve stopped bragging since last month.”

Heeseung’s smile stiffens. He breathes out a ‘haha,’ before starting to turn away. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Serves him right. After a while you routinely bid them good riddance since they have to leave for volunteer work again. The weekend comes rolling, they finish the conference, and, with summer vacation coming to a close, you also bid your part-time job here at Horangnabi farewell as well after two-months of service. 

“It’s not like she’s never coming back here,” Beomgyu huffs. You two decided to stop by before leaving off to your hometown, Monday after their conference. Julie refuses to stop squeezing you. Beomgyu tugs on your shirt sleeve, but you don’t budge. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Coming from the guy who’s spending the entire week with her,” Julie spits back. “You better bring her back here in one piece, you bug.”

Choi Beomgyu succeeds in retrieving you this time. The container carrying two cups of coffee swings in your hand as an arm hooks around your neck, tipping you back, and the top of your skull hits Beomgyu’s chin.

“Hanbin, we’re heading out.”

“Drive safe!”

You’re only spending a little over a week in Daegu. You two still need to come back to Seoul in time for Jung Sungchan’s, cough, epic summer rager. He hasn’t missed a day in reminding you about it. You’re out for a joint-family dinner with Choi Beomgyu and his family and your phone buzzes only to see Sungchan’s text saying [three days. i better see you there 🫵🫵🫵]. 

“Your classes don’t even start until September.”

It’s the third week of August. Your mom decides to walk you to Beomgy’s car. “I still need to enroll and register for my classes,” you tell her. “I’ll call you when I arrive.” You pause. “And if you want to know what I’m up to, just ask me directly for god’s sake. Quit asking that guy.”

That guy wrinkles his nose at you. “Auntie, don’t listen to her. She’s just being jealous.”

“Wait until I tell your mom about how you nearly set fire to your kitchen.”

“Say a single word and I’m never letting you in my car anymore.”

Jung Sungchan’s party is at their vacation home in Eunpyeong District because his parents aren’t in the country. There’s a pool (gross). He promised you and Minjeong exclusive room access to escape to in case of emergencies (nice). It’s late afternoon. Beomgyu is already there because, well, he’s Choi Beomgyu and everyone’s obsessed with him. You’re still at Minjeong’s apartment, getting ready and borrowing some of her accessories.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you guys here?” he asks over the phone. You can barely hear him with the noise in the background. “Taxi fare’s expensive.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Minjeong makes a face from the foot of the bed while she irons her hair. “I’ve saved up a lot of pocket money thanks to you being my personal chauffeur anyway. And Minjeong doesn’t like you. She thinks you’re a douchebag.”

“I don’t even know her!”

“Bye.” You hang up. Minjeong still has a look on her face. “What?”

“I think he’s stringing you along,” she says bitingly.

You let out a huff. “How can he string me along when I don’t even like him?” Minjeong simply says that Choi Beomgyu gives her bad vibes, whatever the fuck she means because the only vibe Beomgyu exudes is the vibe of extreme annoyance. You hop off Minjeong’s bed and change into the outfit you brought, opting to put on this very big, droopy sunhat you once bought at a flea market as extra protection. It’s stupid hot out. You steal some of Minjeong’s sunscreen as well before finally heading out.

“Did Sungchan invite everyone at uni or something?”

A foot into his gate, it’s already so crowded. Like really fucking crowded. There’s music blasting somewhere. You can’t find Sungchan anywhere in the yard so you and Minjeong squeeze your way into the house, and there you find him with Heeseung. Minjeong yells for his attention, and he spins around with a big smile. “Hey, you made it!” Sungchan hurls himself at you with a bone crushing hug. “It feels like it’s been ten years since I last saw you.”

“Quit being so dramat— ack! Tap out, tap out! I give!”

He finally releases you, and you grunt. “Here you go.” He tosses the keys to the room he promised. 

“Have fun partying.” Minjeong snatches it into her hands immediately. You scan the area for a bit. You see Hyunjin and Jeongin in the corner of the living room.

“Boo, you’re so lame,” jeers Sungchan, to which Minjeong just ignores and tugs your arm.

“How about you?” she asks.

You shift your gaze back to her. “I’ll go look for Choi Beomgyu’s round head first then hermit up there with you.” Minjeong makes a gagging noise before going off for the staircase. You’re ready to take out your phone to shoot Beomgyu a text, but you feel a sudden weight on the top of your head, so you look up, brows knitted.

“Your boyfie’s out in the back, sunshine,” Sungchan says while attempting to snatch your hat. 

“Not my fucking boyfriend.” You swat his hand away and readjust the hat on your head. “But thanks. Later.”

The thing about your longtime friend is that no matter how crowded the place, no matter how flooded an area is with people and people and people— he’s generally very easy to find. Just look for a crowd, look for bodies circling around each other and whoever is at the epicenter, at the eye of the storm, is more often than not Choi Beomgyu.

Your trick is proven to be effective this time around as well. When you leave the living room through the glass doors to the backyard, you spot him instantaneously sitting on the ledge of the other side of the pool, feet dipping into the water as he laughs along with the large group surrounding him. It’s bright out— the sun’s rays bouncing off from the water’s surface to glitter the underside of his face. Even the sun has his attention. It’s so comically ridiculous that you almost roll your eyes into a scoff. That is until you see him see you, and within a moment’s notice, he’s up on his feet and is departing from the crowd to walk up to you.

“You’re here.”

The first thing he does is swipe the sunhat from your head, adding it to his obnoxiously colored outfit: a bright pink buttoned top with neon orange flowers, the color matching the necklace he’s uncharacteristically wearing. He’s also got a pair of square framed sunglasses perched on his nose. “Is this your highlighter cosplay?” you ask, snickering. 

He shoots you a glare. “Fuck off. What took you so long, anyway? Thought you got lost or something.”

“I wish I did,” you grunt. There’s a holler and a splash from somewhere. You feel a few droplets hitting the skin of your feet. Beomgyu tugs you by the arm a little farther away from the pool. “This is way too noisy for my liking. And I thought I’ve been desensitized by you and your friends.” 

“Yeah, but—”

“Beomgyu!”

A third voice suddenly barges in from behind you. Beomgyu’s eyes leave your face for a second when you feel someone brush past your shoulders. “Hey!” Beomgyu greets back, giving who you assume is one of his friends a high five before the guy runs off again, then his gaze flits back to you. “Anyway—”

“Hey, kid, haven’t seen you in a while!”

A more familiar face shows up and greets Beomgyu with a slap on the back, once more fishing away his attention. You’ve seen him at Horangnabi before, you think. “Hyung, I’ll get to you in a sec!” he says. When Beomgyu looks at you again, his smile quickly drops into a pursed huff. “Ugh.”

You laugh. “You were saying?”

Beomgyu smacks his tongue in distaste, tugging you even further into a corner in the backyard, right next to a bush-lined fence under the shade. “I was trying to say— it’s good to get out of your comfort zone once in a while, you know. Your mother would cry tears of joy to hear that her hermit of a daughter is at a party.”

“Why do you always bring up my mother when you want to make a point?”

“Extra leverage,” he grins. “There’s drinks in the cooler. Want me to get you one?”

“Nah,” you say. “I’m gonna hole up in Sungchan’s room in about—” you check the time on your phone. “Ten minutes. Minjeong’s already in our sanctuary.”

You receive a pinch on the nose from Beomgyu for that. You try to elbow him off, and just as he’s about to say something again, you two hear his name being yelled out from somewhere in the area. “Choi Beomgyu! Pool volleyball, stat!” Beomgyu pauses, arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slump in defeat. A single breath of wind, he’s gonna fall over.

“God fucking damn it.”

It’s very funny seeing him like this. “Off you go,” you push his limp body out of the shade, the sun hitting you both once more. Beomgyu makes a grunt of protest. “Go, butterfly, go. Your people are waiting for you.”

Beomgyu gives you a look of awful judgment, but starts unbuttoning his shirt anyway in preparation to take a dive. “You’re not gonna swim?” he asks.

“In that water?” you grimace. “Want me to catch a disease or some shit? You’re on your own, pal.”

“Drama queen,” he huffs, fully removing his shirt now and you’re like whoa there— eyes away, eyes away. A screeching voice calls from his attention. He looks behind to yell back, “Shut the fuck up, I’ll there in a minute!”

“Hand me your phone,” you tell him, holding out your hand. Beomgyu turns around, looking at you with his atrociously bright shirt hanging on his forearm. You clear your throat. “And clothes. Ask Sungchan for directions to his room to find me later.”

“You sure?” he asks, digging into his short pockets.

“Yeah. Go have your fun, loser.”

Beomgyu hums and takes your offer, handing you his phone, tossing his shirt to your face, putting your sun hat back on top of your head and making sure to ruin your hair in the process. He’s so fucking annoying. “I’ll be back after I kick their asses.”

The shirt drops from your face and falls, only to hang on your arm. “Hey. I don’t really care,” you say. Beomgyu doesn’t find that response satisfactory. He makes a face before running off, slow at first before breaking into a sprint once he’s near enough the pool, before jumping straight into the water with a loud splash!

His head emerges from the water, largely grinning with his hair sticking to his skull. It doesn’t take long for him to be swallowed by a group of people. You take this as your cue to leave.

“I know you hate it when people assume you’re dating. But seeing all that, I really can’t blame them.”

“Holy shit— Minjeong,” you jump, meeting face-to-face with your friend the moment you spin your heels. She’s got her arms crossed, looking at you like she’s massively unimpressed. “When did you get here?”

“I thought you died or something,” she shrugs. There’s a splash from the pool, you two getting hit as collateral damages and Minjeong makes a gagging noise. “I can’t believe I left home early for this mess.”

You make a noise of agreement. It’s around four right now, the number of people isn’t getting any smaller, and the music is yet to get louder. Choi Beomgyu’s shirt and phone are still on your person. Said phone buzzing incessantly in your hold. “I’ve been out here for a good ten minutes,” you say. “I think that’s enough.”

“Good call. Let’s go upstairs.”

On the way to the room, you bump into Heeseung, who ropes you in to taking two jello shots before setting you free. You also greet a few people that you know for uni here and there, but you can barely hear them over, well, everything. It’s so chaotic, you’re beginning to wonder how the hell Jung Sungchan is going to clean up the aftermath of this. Or maybe that’s why he was so desperate to have you and Minjeong over. So that you’d help him clean up. 

Minjeong seems to agree with your theory. You two key in the door to the room he gave you while cussing him out. “That bastard. Of course, he’d have ulterior motives.” The door opens. Minjeong lets herself in and immediately throws herself face-first onto the bed. “I’m gonna nap.”

“You dressed up all cutely just to sleep at a party,” you say, scanning around the room for a place to put away Beomgyu’s things. 

“Hey, my ten minutes of screentime needs to be worth it,” she replies, voice muffled by the mattress. “Night, night.”

With how pretty the interiors look, you’re pretty sure this isn’t a room Sungchan frequents. A guest bed, maybe. There’s a large window on the opposite wall revealing a vivid backyard view, sheer white curtains filtering the sun. It’s very bohemian. Tasseled rugs, rattan decor hung all around. You notice the round, wicker seat next to the bed with a patterned cushion. You toss Beomgyu’s belongings there and walk up to the window.

Peeling back the curtain, you look down to see a flood of people scattered all about the yard, muffled music and noises leaking into the cracks of the room. Choi Beomgyu is still splashing around the pool. You watch as he throws a beach ball overhead, eyes following it fly across the water, until it ultimately bounces off the pool ledge and hits someone from behind. He looks pretty happy with the stunt. You let out a huff, a tug on the corners of your mouth, and let yourself sink into the soft rug in between the bed and the windowsill, laying down.

You hear Minjeong squirming from above. Damn, she’s actually sleeping. You’d get up there and join her too, but the floor is already comfortable, and you’re already yawning, so you feel yourself starting to doze off, lulled by the distant sounds of people from the outside.

When you open your eyes again, it’s orange.

You open your phone. Almost six in the evening. The sunset leaks into the room through the sheer curtain, painting shadows on the floor as you blink and regain your consciousness.

Then you hear three sharp knocks from the other side of the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Coming.” It takes a while for you to reconnect the wires in your brain. You let out a yawn as you make your groggy steps towards the door, seeing Minjeong wedged into the upper corner of the bed in a way that’s definitely going to wrinkle her outfit. There’s a few more knocks on the door. You twist the knob open and lo and behold—

It’s Choi Beomgyu.

“Oh, thank god, I found the right room this time.”

Half-clothed. With a very evident, painful red mark on his left cheekbone.

“Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?”

You’re wide awake now. Beomgyu answers with a sheepish grin. “Well. You see. A little accident occurred.” 

He flinches back and looks away guiltily with tightly pressed lips the moment you nudge your face closer. It’s swollen. You take a step back with a sigh. “Explain,” you say, grabbing him into the room. You tip the door close with your foot and bring him to the foot of the bed, careful not to wake Minjeong up in the process.

“Some of the guys got a little too tipsy,” he starts as you sit him down onto the mattress. You kneel onto the bed stool, sinking into the loose blanket draped on the cushion just next to his outstretched legs while he continues yapping. “There was a surfboard involved. Don’t ask. But with alcohol-induced lack of coordination, and then there’s me who was by the pool ledge at the wrong place at the wrong time— I think you can get an idea of what happened.

He leans back, sinking his hands into the cushion. You dip forward. “That’s nothing to brag about.” Yeah, he’s gonna need some ice. 

“I think I bumped my head a little too.”

You feel a breath escape. He’s smiling. How many beer cans has he downed already? “Beomgyu. Seriously. What the fuck?” His face is irritating you, so you grab it and yank it down to get a good look of his big, round head. “Where?”

“Ack! Gently! Do it gently!” he complains, and you feel his right hand coil around your left wrist. “It’s father in the back, I think—”

“Quit grabbing—”

“Ow!”

You do manage to find the bump, but you accidentally press on it a little too hard, causing Choi Beomgyu to yank your wrist in surprise, jerking you forward out of balance. Now, that’s fine and all, but at the same moment, you hear two unfamiliar voices speaking in hushes approaching the door. Your eyes widen.

“Are you sure this room is empty?”

“Yeah, it’s empty, just—”

Swing! 

You try to get up. But your knees slip on the blanket on the stool and you stumble forward upon hearing the door slam open.

It’s a domino effect. Your palms are pressing against the soft mattress. Choi Beomgyu’s bruised face is looking straight at you in alarm. From underneath. You’re on top of him. On the bed. You snap your head towards the door and it’s wide, wide open with two people, half inside, and a few more heads poking in and zeroing in on you as the realization that you forgot to fucking lock it dawns upon you and soaks into your bones.

This. This isn’t a favorable position.

God damn it all.

“Sorry!”

And the door is slammed shut once more. That doesn’t matter. The damage has been done. You feel your face starting to burn and your strength attempting to escape from your body.

“Uh.”

The voice from below you reels your attention back in. You blink. Shit. You’re practically pinning Choi Beomgyu against the bed right now and his face is just a few inches away from yours. The heat is rising to your head. You want to move, but your arms won’t budge— seemingly temporarily locked into place by the shock of the sight underneath you.

His eyes are wide open, reflecting the orange tinted light from the ceiling, flushing his skin with a light shade of auburn, the tint deeper on his cheeks and nose. You see his throat bob, muscles contracting. 

The thing is, you’ve known him for a good twenty years or so, give or take. But you’ve never seen his face this close before, and you have to admit—

“C—can you move?”

Choi Beomgyu is kind of pretty.

Even with an ugly bruise forming underneath his eye.

“Hey. I don’t think this is gonna help kill any of the rumors.”

You look up to see Minjeong further up on the bed, very, very awake. You forgot she’s here. You toss yourself to the side with a squeak, practically hurling yourself off from the bed. “It—it was an accident!” you start. Minjeong simply shakes her head with sigh.

“I know. I saw everything. I was already awake the moment you sat this fucker’s ass on the bed.”

Hot. Your face is very hot. But Minjeong is also very right because god— you’re not sure how far things are gonna escalate. How many people saw that? Five? Maybe Six? Gosh, you don’t fucking know. The only thing you’re sure about is the fact that Lee Heeseung is gonna have a field day once he hears about this. You are royally screwed.

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[biolumien]

Hi!! Your rooftop smoke fic with Hoshina was just superb. 😭💖

Was wondering If could request a scenario where they had been mutually pining for one another. And they'd, on more than one occasion catch each other's eyes across the room. And a handful of people from the Defense Force notices. Cause could they be more obvious?

Whether that would end up angsty or with a happy ending is up to you! I love the way you write for Hoshina. You capture him pretty perfectly haha

Stay safe and healthy!!

notes: omg... thank you for your compliments... it means smsm! uhh... well. this kinda took on a life of its own, i'm sorry. i hope you don't mind ;-;;

say it! come on, say it!

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader alternatively: romcom except then i smacked it so hard with angst at the end. sorry. word count: 2400

“you need to close your mouth when you’re staring.” you feel the ice-cold touch of a can press against your cheek, and you shriek as you stare up at–

“ah, fuck. i’m not staring, narumi,” you mutter, taking the soda can from him. narumi seemed less than convinced, his eyes barely visible from underneath his bangs. 

“o-kay. and you’re totally not ogling hoshina with googly eyes.” narumi cracks open his own soda, taking a long sip from the can. “why don’t you just date already? i’m gonna be honest, i’m sick of you looking at him like that. it’s boring, bland, predictable… fuckin’ hate that will they won’t they bullshit.” 

“i can’t,” you complain dramatically. 

hoshina, from the other side of the room, was talking to captain ashiro while examining some paperwork. occasionally, okonogi would come over, point out some new development, and there’d seem to be another heated debate between the three. you always liked seeing hoshina in his element—whether it be instructing other officers, training with his blades, or awkwardly not making eye contact with him when he spoke to you. 

“like hell you can’t!” narumi hissed, reaching out to put you in a headlock. “stop looking at him like that!” 

“like hell what? who’s looking at who?” 

hoshina had come over, staring at the two of you, right as narumi’s arm was beginning to wrap around your neck. narumi immediately flew back from you as you laughed nervously. 

“uhh, like hell i, umm…” you fumbled for an answer, staring up at hoshina nervously. why had he just come over? why was he looking at you like that? your lips quiver for a moment.

“oh, relax!” hoshina clapped you across the back, laughing. “you look so nervous! like you’ve just confessed you had some very, very personal feelings or something! that’s adorable…” 

let me die, you think furtively as hoshina’s hand brushes your shoulder. narumi’s face was pinched. 

“don’t let narumi bully you too much; he’s just a little lowlife, after all,” hoshina said with teasing venom in his voice. 

“you bitch,” narumi growled. “i have no idea how they see anything in y—” his face paled as the words left his lips, and you think you almost see god for a minute. you hide your face with your hands, waiting for hoshina’s verdict, and you swear that the next moment you get, you were going to make narumi very sorry for spilling your metaphorical, hell, call them literal at this point, guts out in the open. 

“hmm?” hoshina hums. the world fell silent—at least silent to you, in any case, your eardrums pounding in time with your heartbeat. “well—”

“vice captain hoshina!” mina ashiro’s voice was sharp and piercing. “time to go.” 

“huh?” hoshina cocks his head. “ah, of course, captain. be right there!” 

he turned to you and narumi with a small smile, one of his fangs peeking out for a moment before waving his fingers. 

“see you.” he nods his head to you specifically before he turns away. 

you wait until you are absolutely, absolutely sure he’s out of earshot before turning on narumi, throwing your soda can at his head. 

“fuck!” narumi swore. “what the fuck was that for?” 

“you idiot! why did you basically confess to him for me?!” you hiss. “i’m trying to count on you to not run your damn mouth!” 

“hoshina’s an idiot,” narumi says sullenly. “i bet he didn’t even notice.” 

[…]

the walk through the hallway was silent, up until—

“you’re red,” mina says, her hand reaching for her skirt pocket to pull out her phone. 

“stop,” hoshina’s voice is strangled, far more strangled than he’d like it to be. “no, i’m serious. no photos. you’ll need to talk to my PR agent about that.” hoshina’s ears were tinged pink, and he raised his hands to try and hide the flush. 

“hoshina,” okonogi sounded disapproving, “why don’t you just confess already? i’m getting tired watching you get so concerned over them…” 

“ha! confess,” hoshina laughs. “and what good would that do? i’m not exactly peak romance material, you know this…” 

“the only one not noticing that is you, hoshina,” mina mutters. “you get all sullen when they leave and happy when they come back, but you have to act like a… hmm… what does he act like, okonogi?” 

hoshina’s eyes went wide as okonogi hummed. 

“a cat!” okonogi declares emphatically. 

“yes. you’re right,” mina says decisively. “that’s a good fit. you act like a cat about it. you try to—”

“stop. stop it, stop it, i don’t want to hear it. stop analyzing my personality. this isn’t some kind of joke,” hoshina says, his voice sounding more flustered as he went on. “they’re never gonna say yes. it’s stupid. confessing like this… it would only be a burden on all of us.” 

mina and okonogi exchanged a look.

“besides, i’m a bad boyfriend. remember that last girl, from operations,” hoshina laughed. “broke her heart in three seconds flat.” 

“… if i remember correctly, you liked her quite a lot, though,” okonogi said hesitantly. 

“ha! so what if i did?” hoshina asked. “she only just left when i… hm.” his smile seemed to falter somewhat, but he laughed. “it’s fine. it’s fine. i’m fine.” 

behind his back, mina and okonogi exchanged another look. 

but his mind flickered back to his hand on your back, and wondered if you leaning into his touch was a fluke. 

[…]

you stare at hoshina from across the room. he’s eating by himself, half a piece of melon bread in his mouth as he stared down at some papers in his hand. you’d have asked to sit next to him, if only you were braver. but you were a coward, so here you were. you stare down at your own food, tearing off a corner of the red bean bun you were eating, popping it in your mouth. 

your crush on hoshina was about as subtle as a freight train. which is to say, you felt it coming on, and then by the time you’d fully reconciled it, you were already being run over repeatedly. it was just grappling, mostly, with how cool he was, endlessly. 

you wondered what it would be like to live under the intensity of his stare, as it enveloped you whole. 

would it be like a benevolent fire? or would he raze you so wholly that there’d be nothing left? 

you wanted to find out. you wanted to find out, but you were so scared he’d burn you before you could even get close. but what was important was that hoshina, for sure, didn’t even bother to reciprocate your feelings. that’s what you were so sure of—because why would someone like him give you the pleasure of his time? surely his time was more valuable than wasting it on a nobody like you. 

his intensity, sharpened to a fine point, was better spent figuring out how to permanently eradicate the kaiju threat altogether. 

right?

you sighed miserably. 

“now that sounds like a miserable sound to me,” hoshina’s voice rang out right next to your ear. 

you nearly jumped out of your skin as soon as you heard his voice, too focused for a second on the soft, tickling sensation of his breath against the shell of your ear. your face bloomed bright red, and you immediately backed away from him, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. 

“hoshina!” you stammer. “what—what are you doing?” 

“eating?” hoshina raises his eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his lips. “noticed you were staring. take a picture, by the way, if you want. they do last longer than the momentary glances.” he sat down next to you, continuing to eat.

so he had noticed you staring. 

“s-sorry. for staring,” you say. 

“huh? why are you sorry?” hoshina asks, cocking his head at you, one of his eyes opening a bit wider. “i don’t mind. if i minded, i woulda said something.” your face flushed a little more at his words, and you looked away as he laughed. 

“you really are cute,” he says fondly, reaching out a hand to pat your head.

… huh?

“what?” you ask weakly. 

“huh? did i say something weird?” hoshina asks, the picture perfect image of innocence—or so you’d say, if his eyes weren’t narrowed at you, and the smile on his face a little too much like a smirk, waiting for how you’d react. 

“no…? i guess? it’s just not something i thought you’d say. to me,” you say falteringly, looking away for a moment. 

“mm. i guess i should make a habit of saying it more, huh?” hoshina teases, removing his hand from your head. 

and as you fluster a little more, you curse god for your crush on soshiro hoshina. 

[…]

“you need to quit fucking around,” narumi says, pointing a dumbbell at hoshina in the training room. 

“fucking around? i’m doing nothing of the sort,” hoshina says, that mask of innocence still on his face. narumi’s brow furrows. 

“sure, and you don’t also ogle… you need to get your shit together and confess, or swear to god, i’ll kill one of you. or, hell, why don’t we just kill both of you so i don’t have to fucking look at you?” narumi scoffs, anger spiking in his voice. 

“ha, yeah, maybe if you do that i’ll finally be free from hearing your annoying, grating voice,” hoshina says, prodding narumi in the chest.

“yeah, but then you won’t confess your feelings and then i’ll have to die knowing i broke up a couple that hadn’t even gotten together,” narumi grumbles. “i’m not a monster.”

“huh?” hoshina asks.

narumi looked like he was about to blow a gasket.

“wait, so you didn’t know they reciprocate?”

“i–well, i… hoped?” hoshina says, realizing how stupid he must sound. his mind flit back to your reactions the past few days–hell, the past few weeks? maybe the past few months? “oh. shit.”

“oh. shit. indeed,” narumi mocks. “so, are you going to tell them?”

“i…” hoshina suddenly realized how terrified he was. his face paled, his hand coming up to his mouth. “i… shit. wait. this is–fuck. i…” he ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs up past his face, a shaking sigh passing his lips. “no. this is… how would i even begin to explain it? i’m not… i can’t. i’m not–i can’t be a good partner. not in this line of work. my judgement could be compromised! that wouldn’t–”

“your judgement is already compromised,” narumi says, a bared snarl-turned-smile on his lips. “you know, hoshina. this is probably the most interesting you’ve ever been. you’re always facades, niceties. pretended you were untouchable, swimming in that sea of self-loathing and ineptitude. but maybe you’re beginning to live a little, aren’t you?”

hoshina’s eyes widened.

living?

[...]

it’d always come to the worst, you thought. you coughed up a mouthful of blood as another round of rubble began to creak overhead. you tried to force your body to move, and your suit pulsed in response to your movements, attempting to close the bloody gashes across your body from the kaiju attack. 

“command, come in,” you gasped out, holding up a shaking hand to your in-ear. you winced as there was only a clicking static in response–was no one coming? were you all alone? were you going to die like this, your limbs barely even able to hold up their own weight even with most of your combat power unleashed? is this all you were good for? your knees buckled as you collapsed onto the ground, coughing out a mouthful of blood.

were you going to die like this?

you couldn’t.

you didn’t want to.

your vision swam a bit as you coughed out another mouthful of blood, your mind lingering.

hoshina had touched your back right before you’d left, a small smile crossing his face.

“don’t die,” he’d said. 

and here you were, stumbling through the rubble, hurting so badly that you might as well be dead. 

it was utterly and painfully cliche to think about letting hoshina down. you didn’t want to, and yet there was a horrifying possibility that you would. and as you buckled again, collapsing onto your knees, you coughed out another mouthful of blood.

fuck.

“command,” you repeated, in a weaker voice. “please. if someone–if anyone can hear me–i need help. suit damage is–” you cough again, wiping blood from your mouth. “--critical. please.” 

and as your vision swam, you felt a hand press against your shoulder.

“there you are.”

you blinked hard, staring up at the face of soshiro hoshina, who’d pulled his mask off, leaning down to pull you into his arms.

“hoshina,” you whisper. “i’m sorry–i shouldn’t have… i got…”

“why are you apologizing?” hoshina asks, his voice sounding more choked than you’d like it to be.

“i didn’t mean to–i didn’t mean for this to happen.” you think you’re bleeding across hoshina’s suit, across his gloves as you press your head against his shoulder. 

hoshina laughs desperately, wetly.

“you didn’t mean to–of course you didn’t mean to!” hoshina protests. “the attack was more than any of us could have predicted–of course you didn’t mean for any of this happen–i don’t want you to apologize for that.” his hand reaches up to swipe some blood away from your brow. “come on, love. i have to tell you how i feel–that bastard was right, after all. my judgement was compromised from the beginning, around you.” 

“that bastard? narumi?” you ask, coughing a bit. why did it feel so cold? your eyes fluttered for a moment,  “what does he have to do with any of this–”

“i love you,” hoshina says. “i’m sorry it took me this long to tell you. and i’m selfish, for waiting until you’re bloodied, like this, to tell you.” you didn’t like the desperate look in his eyes like he was convinced you were going to die. you leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“you bastard,” you muttered. “couldn’t you have thought up a better time and place for all of this?” 

“no,” hoshina admits. “because i’m selfish, after all.” he smiles at you, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. “come on. let’s get you to the medbay. i’m not letting you die on me yet.”

“okay,” you whispered weakly. “okay.”